Tormented Sanity
by MidnightManic
Summary: Rogue's sanity slowly topples over the edge and there may be no return. Can Gambit help her regain herself before its too late? Set after Apocalypse. ROMY. Rated for dark themes: cutting, dark thoughts, suicide, angsty. DISCONTINUED- See author's note.
1. Chapter 1: Nightmare

**Summary:** It's after Apocalypse and everything is peachy for everyone on the X-Men team. Everyone that is, except the one known as Rogue. Slowly, the psyches in her mind are taking over her life and her mind, making her sink into a deep, dark depression. Will the Rogue topple over the edge, or can a certain Remy LeBeau keep her sane? It's all about ROMY, baby! I will have hints of other couples, but FYI, it's definitely a ROMY. Rated for occasional profanity, cutting, depression, suicidal-ness, and lots of dark thoughts.

**Disclaimer:** If anything sounds familiar, I do not own it. I do not own X-Men: Evolution or any of its affiliates. If I did, do you think I'd still be living in a crap-pile-of-a-town? I would be off in some happy place, like the Bahamas, Malibu, New York… 'Nuff said…

On With the Show!

**Tormented Sanity**

**Chapter One: Nightmare**

Green. That's all Rogue could see as she opened her eyes. Sharp, searing pains racked her neck, or rather her whole body, whenever she tried to turn her head. In her periphery vision, she could barely see the other side of the tank she was held captive in. Tubes were connected randomly around the glass, reaching into the box, connecting on various places in the body. The tubes where weren't as much tubes, yet claws, digging painfully into her skin. They were everywhere; in her arms, legs, back, stomach, neck. Within the numbness of the pinch, she felt yet another needle-like poke, as if a bee had injected its stinger into the area. On the ridge of her nose stood the tight air mask supplying her with oxygen.

Rogue looked up. The bright surgical light was refracted by the color around her. Through the top of the glass cage she could faintly make out the silhouettes of men. They moved around the confinement, looking at the girl as if she was a circus freak. She squirmed uncomfortably, but was silenced by the agonizing pain. Yet when she did move, she noticed the green almost jiggled in place, as if it was cheap gooey hair gel you would buy at a corner pharmacy. The green didn't slosh around like liquid whenever she made any slight movement.

Suddenly, the claw's pressure dissipated. Gone was the needle pinching her skin, the grasp gone, giving relief to the slowly sinking Rogue. She couldn't move, she was slowly sinking to the bottom of her imprisonment. Something pressed up against her back, lifting her upwards to meet the light. Above the green gel, she looked around frantically to the sides of her. Surgical lights blinded her from over her; metal gleamed to the side of her. A snap of gloves grabbed her attention from the other side of the room. A figure decked in an operating robe, mask, and gloves approached the side of her. He motioned to the other side of the room, and out appeared more operators coming to his aid.

One fairly young looking doctor yanked off her old gas mask roughly, then pressed a new one upon her head, adjusting it, then turning on a knob from a tank next to her. The words on the cistern ran blurry on her mind, she could barley make out the figures that meant to stand as letters. She willed herself to scream, to let the doctors know she was awake, but no sound came out as she opened her mouth. Instead, gas filled her nostrils and mouth. A drowsy sensation clouded her mind, giving her the fuzzy idea that what they had given her was sleeping gas, meant to numb the pain. The young doctor didn't turn up the pressure enough; Rogue could still feel the excruciating pain.

Intense twinge inflicted the girl's body. She tried to shrink way, thinking that the doctors would stop the slashing as she shifted; yet she was wrong, for more pain exploded. Instinctively, Rogue knew she was being cut open in long, deep slashes. Her eyes darted around frantically, meeting the glare of something metallic in her periphery. The pain occurred all over, she couldn't tell where exactly the slashes were pinpointed, or why, for that matter. Green was all she could remember seeing of this day.

Another jarring pain pressured her body. A slow and agonizing death was waiting for her from this. Each ripple grew stronger and longer with every slice. Her mind worked in overdrive, imagining after every sliver her skin being pulled open; her inside inspected, tweaked with curiosity. Pressure built everywhere in her bones; they were on fire. Something was being rammed into her skin, and then ignited like a match. It felt like a bolt was being twisted hard and squeezing her insides. It grew agonizing. The torturing feeling built up farther and farther until she felt she could not live any longer. She needed to stop the pain.

Her body twitched involuntarily and gave her the strength to try and move her arms and legs, but they were tied fast to the gurney. Dizzy and tortured, the Rogue lifted her head, gasping at the sight in front of her very eyes. Surgeons and nurses surround her body, each a metal part in hand. Yet, out of the army, only one surgeon was working on her arm. Blood poured out of the wound, staining her body and the bed. It stained not only around her arm, but the perimeter of her body. No longer was the bed white, yet a deep crimson red, the true color of blood. What were they doing to her?

At long last the surgeon stepped back. He announced something to all the nearby nurses. They all left the room, leaving Rogue alone and strapped to the table. The pain consumed her. Her joints, skin, bones, and hair even, felt as if scraped off brutally, burned to oblivion. She twitched. Something injected her back. The single touch of the needle end began another pained spell. Electricity zapped her, making her jump around mercilessly. Then, the pin slowly eased, diminishing into a faint remembrance. It took a while, but soon there was not a trace of the agony once endured by her. She stopped twitching. Around her wrists and ankles, she could feel the straps that had previously held her down being loosened and opened. Rogue cautiously got up, wondering what the deal was. An odd feeling enclosed her skeleton, like she had been stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey. This feeling especially swelled around her wrists and hands. She looked down, blown away at what she saw.

Metal was poking out from each hand, positioned in the middle of her knuckles. They weren't attached _to_ her skin; they were attached _under_ it. What had they done to her? She stared at her hands in disbelief, slowly backing up into a wall. She screamed finally, letting out a ferocious roar so loud, she could feel the vibrations bounce off the metal room to meet her again. She ran around the lab like a mad man, overthrowing objects, using the metal to slash wildly, ripping apart everything. When everything was just about destroyed to dust, she stood in the middle of the dome and yelled a pitiful cry, only to fall to her knees in heap. All around her she heard a clicking sound, like millions of guns loading. She looked around. What she hadn't noticed before was how the lab she was in had holes, rather large openings really, around it, specifically aimed at her. Within a split second, the guns exploded.

With a shudder, Rogue jerked forward, lungs gasping for air, hair stuck to her sweaty neck and forehead. She looked wildly around herself, unable to identify where she was in the piercing darkness. Her chest heaving, she couldn't remember where she was. Was she in her own room or was she still back in that horrid lab? It was too quiet to tell. Rogue groped around, trying to find something to hold on to and help recognize where she was. Fear rose like a maniac in her mind. Panic made her heart race desperately. Where was she?

Rogue reached all around, trying to find anything useful. Something tangled her feet together, she realized, desperately kicking her feet. She kicked too hard while reaching toward her right… then promptly fell of the bed. Head first.

"Fuck," she hissed as her head banged something hard. Muffled running feet sounded and pulsed into her room. Light flooded into the room as someone flicked on the light. She closed her eyes quickly, unadjusted to the bright light. She timidly peeked out, almost fearing which reality she would have to face. Standing in front of the closed door stood Kitty, obvious with worry and concern crossing her delicate Valley Girl features.

"Like, oh my god, Rogue! Are you like, okay?" The valley girl attempted to whisper, but squeaked instead.

Rogue looked around. Black curtains adorned the windows, blocking out the stars and bright night sky's moon. Posters of dark, gothic bands covered the walls, almost making it hard to decipher the true color of the walls, which were a dark, romantic, kind of purple. Tangled around her feet were the black comforters of her bed. She let out a sigh of relief. She was back in her room, not the disgusting laboratory. She glanced back at Kitty, who was giving her a puzzled look and still waiting for an answer.

"Yeah, Ah'm okay, Kit," she replied half-heartedly, while rubbing her sweaty forehead. Her head throbbed from where she hit her head on her nearby nightstand.

"Like, what happened?" Kitty implored. She moved closer to the fallen girl.

"The bed fell offa meh," came the sarcastic remark. She untangled herself from her binds and plopped her covers on the bed.

"What really happened? I was like, going to the bathroom and heard you tossing and turning like, really loudly, and then I came back and heard you fall," she explained, making a note to be quieter when her friend flinched at her loud tone.

"It was nothin, jus a bad dream," Rogue answered quietly. A migraine was rearing its ugly head again, and she needed a pill. Bad. She began remaking her bed. Kitty knew she was tired, and began to walk back to the door.

"Hey Rogue?" Kitty started. Rogue stopped what she was doing and turned around. "You would like, tell me if something was wrong, right?" Rogue gave her a ghost of a smile.

"Yeah, sure Kit," she lied. Kitty smiled at the answer.

"Good, because I'm like totally here for you." Kitty phased half of herself out the door before calling back a soft goodnight.

"Naght Kit," she whispered. She turned off the light and waited by the door for a minute. After a safe amount of time had passed, she quietly opened the door and peered out. There was nobody in the halls and no lights were visibly turned on. Taking one step, she quietly began walking down the hall. Logan's room was just ahead, around the corner really. Her quickened pace diminished to a snails crawl. With Logan's enhanced hearing, it would be harder than hell to get by unnoticed. He heard everything, from something a mile away to a mouse's fart.

It took forever to pass Logan's room. Small baby steps were all she could manage, and barely at that, she couldn't help but make the tiniest squeak. No doubt that if Wolvie found her after hours, wandering the passages of the Xavier Institute, he'd either give her a heart-to-heart or a week of Danger Room Sessions. With her migraine building steadily, she really didn't need either. Finally, Rogue reached her destination: the kitchen.

Rogue looked around before she entered. Empty. It was dark and lonely. Rogue placed a barefoot upon the cold tile and turned on one of the dimmer lights. She took delicate steps towards the back of the pantry and fumbled around boxes of cereal to find a container of aspirin. She quickly took out two tablets of Tylenol, and then placed it on a nearby countertop. Finding a clean cup and filling it with water; she quickly pushed the tow tablets in and drowned them with water. Now swallowing then was the issue. Not now or ever would she be able to get used to the feeling of swallowing pills. No matter how many pills she would need for the constant drumbeat living in her head, she would always feel the need to throw up. But you do what you have to right? She swallowed the pill with a flinch and a shudder passed throughout her spine. She downed the whole glass of water in hopes to dissipate it all so she wouldn't feel the familiar lodge in her throat. She turned to refill it, and then downed another glass. About to gulp the rest, she was rudely interrupted by a gruff voice.

"Stripes, what are you doin up?"

The voice of Logan surprised Rogue, nearly causing her to choke. She thought that when Logan didn't follow her out the hall that she was home free. How wrong she was. Caught, she waited for her water to go down before talking.

"Jesus Chrast, Logan! Ya tryin' tah kill meh?" she gasped, still recovering.

"Nah, not yet," was his quick answer. He took a lazy seat on the nearby stool. Rogue did the same; silently sipping her water while Logan stared at her with questioning eyes.

"What's it this time, Stripes?"

"Couldn't sleep," she replied monotonously.

"And why not?" he asked, bored with her answer. They both knew she was lying.

"Too much caffeine," she replied again, almost rehearsed. Logan sighed. That sigh was Logan's way of letting you off easy. She knew what it meant. Heart-to-heart.

"Them nightmares again?"

Rogue looked away, somewhat frightened at the thought of her recent nightmare. Only the teachers knew about her nightly journey through the darker side of dreams. Sure, the students residing knew about the incident where she had a nightmare about Kurt's past, but that's all she would allow them to know.

"Whose?" Logan asked a little more gently. Rogue inspected her hands. She had some idea of whose it was… but it couldn't be…

"Ah'm… Ah'm not sure," she started off, unable to find the words suddenly, "It was dark. Ah was in some sorta lab. When Ah finally opened mah eyes, all Ah saw was green. Then, Ah was taken out and put on a table. They gassed meh an started cutting meh open. It was a long surgery. An extremely painful." Rogue unknowingly massaged her arms, wincing at the thought of it all. "Ah could feel the pain, Logan, even now…" Her body involuntarily shook. Merely thinking about the pain drove shockwaves through her system. Each shocked her and lingered on until another shockwave feed it more power to pulse further. "It hurt so bad. It felt lahke every little cut was followed bah someone rippin mah skin wider n wider. Then, ah looked up and saw metal in the nurse's hands. They were rippin apart mah muscles an settin mah bones on fire. Ah looked up and…" she diminished, trying to remember what came next.

"Ya looked around to see yer blood surroundin ya. Then they would all leave and the pain would finally stop, right?" Logan finished, unable to look at her. Rogue yanked her head up in disbelief. A knowing look was returned to her.

"Oh mah gawd… Logan…That was your memory?" she gasped. "Oh mah gawd, you had to go through that? Ah… Ah'm so sorry, Logan."

Logan sighed and ran a hand through his tinted hair. "No ya shouldn't be the one sorry, Stripes. I should. A kid like you shouldn't have to be plagued by other people's memories. I'm sorry ya had to see that."

"Don't beh sorry, Logan, it wasn't your fault," Rogue responded. A far away look was cast into her jewel like eyes. She stared off into space, looking at the cup she was gripping with glassy eyes. A gaunt shade was pasted on her flawless face, yet it wasn't her make up this time. Weariness of not having a decent night's sleep in a while showed upon this dangerous face and formed dark circles under her eyes. Rogue looked like she was going to topple over. Logan noticed all of this of course.

"Rogue," he started, breaking Rogue out of her sleep like trance. "What's wrong?" Rogue massaged her temples then rubbed her eyes.

"Ah dunno, Ah guess Ah'm jus tired, that's all. Ah gonna head ta bed raghte now. Naght Logan," she responded feebly. Quietly, she picked up her empty glass and stuck in the always-full dishwasher.

"Night, Stripes," Logan called after her. Rogue made no response back. Instead she quickly sauntered off.

'You'd think after the whole Mystique and Apocalypse deal the poor kid would be given a break,' Logan sighed silently.

It hurt Logan to see Rogue suffer like this. No child should ever be given a troublesome burden like the one bestowed upon her. Yet, even so, Rogue somehow always managed to carry on, no matter what shit life threw at her, which was a lot. Sure, she always had a good-natured complain, as with every other kid, but she never went so far as to give up hope.

Hope.

Logan knew; it was the only thing keeping the Rogue together. Hope for control, for trust, and for a better life. Now, as the days dragged on, each last thread of hope stretched, waiting until the right time to break. It wasn't too long until all would be lost and the girl would hit rock bottom Logan feared for that day, along with most of the instructors, feared for what the Mississippian might do. And this fear led Logan to become a "replacement" father for the girl. Rogue had always won a special place in his heart with her strong will and stubbornness. It was these two qualities that reminded her of him. He was lost, too, at one point in his life. Not wanting her to walk the same path resulted in the protective mature and the constant check ups. But, even behind all of this, he knew she would do and think what she wanted. And there was no stopping it.

* * *

Holy mother of crap-doodles.

It has been one whole year since I updated. Wow. I am so incredibly sorry. Sorry to all those out there who've already read this chapter and have waited patiently for more. Kill me if you wish, all those 8 reviewers who have waited so damn long for this. This year has been… crappy and this is one of the things that has suffered from it. This has been on my mind, but the other things have taken over my thoughts and the will to write well… but never fear! The summer has come at last and now I'm here to write my cough arse off. I hope.

As you could have probably already seen, I have decided to re-upload this chapter. There are some _minor_ changes in this, and such that, the chapter's essentially the same. This is a total ROMY. And essentially, that's it. I will make some minor comments about the other couples living in the mansion, but its all about the southerners. The romance, sad to say, will not come for a few chapters. I need to get rid of the wonderfully depressing aspect of Rogue before our favorite lil Cajun charmer can charm his way into our hearts. And then, MUCH MADNESS SHALL ENSUE!

Until then, don't maim me yet. Maim me if I promise to get updating everyday, because that is not possible for me. I'll try to update at least once a week, because I've just looked on all my files and realized that I have the first four chapter of my story done. All I have to do now is perfect them all… oO this shall be interesting, non?

Until then, press that lil purple button down there, cuz ya know ya wanna. And because I would cry if you didn't… sniff

Toodles to your Noodles!

MidniteAngelGoth


	2. Chapter 2: Stolen

**Summary:** It's after Apocalypse and everything is peachy for everyone on the X-Men team. Everyone that is, except the one known as Rogue. Slowly, the psyches in her mind are taking over her life and her mind, making her sink into a deep, dark depression. Will the Rogue topple over the edge, or can a certain Remy LeBeau keep her sane? It's all about ROMY, baby! I will have hints of other couples, but FYI, it's definitely a ROMY. Rated for occasional profanity, cutting, depression, suicidal-ness, and lots of dark thoughts.

**Disclaimer:** If anything sounds remotely familiar, I do not own it. I do not own X-Men: Evolution nor any of its affiliates. If I did, do you think I'd still be living in a crap-pile-of-a-town? I would be off in some happy place, like the Bahamas, Malibu, New York… 'nuff said…

On With The Show!

**Tormented Sanity**

Chapter 2: Stolen 

Light.

She cringed at the mere thought of it. It always singled out an omen for her. Whether it was to follow the light at the end of the tunnel or what not. Today, the omen spoke to her. It told her to wake up. But she couldn't. She loved to stay in her self-created reverie of happiness and contentment. She hated the light. Late afternoon light was okay in her book, twilight light too, even. She drew the line at the crack-of-dawn light though. Morning light meant another day. Another day to live a worthless life doused in fear and isolation. Another day to spend timelessly, effortlessly with people, who in her mind, couldn't usually give one goddamn about her poor pathetic existence.

Just another day.

A bright and beautiful one at that, complete with full breathless sunrise that assured someone else's happy-go-lucky day. She hated that. And now, on this other goddamned beings blessed day, she was late.

She hated that more.

Rogue popped her eyes open. Her head turned groggily towards the alarm clock with a pop. Five thirty AM. That time rang a small bell within the sanctuary of her mind. She thought about why that time felt so familiar… Wait… Didn't Logan's Danger Room Session start at precisely 5:30 AM? As in fully dressed, waiting with the rest of her teammates, and waiting for instructions?

Rogue flung her black covers off ferociously. Clothes flew wildly over her head as she attempted to find her training uniform. More clothes flew as she stripped down to her slinky black underwear and bra set. She pulled on her black and green spandex, praying it wouldn't rip in her haste. Quickly, she rushed to apply simple black eyeliner on her emerald eyes, then her thick white foundation. This was a rule no matter how late she was. She would never, EVER let anyone see her without something on her eyes. Somehow, she had gotten incredible skill on putting on her make up. It almost took her longer to put on her clothes than to apply eye make up. Rogue next opened her drawer in her vanity, digging into it and recovering her simple black gloves. Always the necessity, always the curse, she thought bitterly. Taught she pulled on them as she raced out the door.

………

'Faster, Faster, Faster!' Rogue pleaded for her body to obey her for once. 'Just a little bit faster.'

Danger Room Sessions.

Oh, how she hated them. Why Logan insisted on having them so early, or rather having them at all, she'd never in her life understand. There was no way anyone could continuously get up early and attend them, unless you were Scott or Jean. Especially if you stayed up nearly the whole night, fearing your nightmare. Or rather, in Rogue's case, the memories of others trapped and engraved into her brain. Logan's memory scared the shit out of her. Just the remembrance of it was enough to sends shivers down her spine and vibrate every bone in her body. Just one minute of shut-eye stuck tiny needles down her body, poking and prodding at her, sucking at her blood like a vampire would. Needless to say, she couldn't close her eyes without flashes playing in her mind. She would always wake up from the revelation in a cold sweat, unable to catch her breath. Her sleep was fitful, and with her luck, only an hour at most.

So here was the Rogue. Fighting for what it would seem like her life or her death for no apparent reason at all. Running around like madmen for a small, red flag was pointless and stupid to Rogue. In fact, training at all was worthless now. Apocalypse had been gone for a few days and no return in sight. Everyone was still somewhat recuperating from the valiant fight… yet Logan still insisted on training. Of course the Professor agreed with him.

Now, normally this was the routine whenever they accomplished a battle. That was under normal circumstances. She inwardly smirked. What was being under normal circumstances? Not being a mutant? Being near killed by sharp metallic objects, one being your very own instructor, every single day? Or was it being overseen by one of your enemies? The training hadn't been normal in any chance. In fact, it showed to be rather abnormal in the fact that one of the X-Men's sworn enemies was now residing under the protection and care of Charles Xavier. That's right, their number one adversary was watching them perform tricks like whipped dogs.

Magneto.

The way he looked at he made her skin crawl. He would peer over the controls of the Danger Room, inspecting every X-Men, until his gaze would finally fall upon the Rogue. It would rest upon her as she dodged flying objects and tackled her teammates. It felt like he was searching for something hidden to present itself at any moment's notice. Her uncontrolled, raw, and plentiful power just waiting to be let loose like a bomb. Word had most definitely gotten around to Magneto that she had a freak-out; therefore, he knew the extent of her powers. Magneto was waiting for the right moment, when Rogue would become vulnerable to anyone who helped her. Then, she knew by instinct that he would contract her into joining his imaginary misfit of a team. A little voice inside her head told her so.

The sad part was, she wasn't joking.

She had absorbed Magneto on more than one occasion, after all. But for now, what could she base her accusations on? He was oddly quiet and obedient to the Professor's rules. The real, life-sized Eric Lenshurr was innocent.

On and on Rogue ran, every footstep aware of Magneto's keen eye watching her with sick approval. Yet Rogue forced her tired body to carry on, trying to silently run away from nearby 'enemies.' She searched for the little hidden flag everywhere. Through her little X-Microphone, orders were barked to her by her other teammates. It was Cyclops, Nightcrawler, Jubilee, Cannonball, Iceman, Colossus, Multiple, X-23, Boom-boom and Pyro on her team. The other team consisted of Jean, Shadowcat, Magma, Wolfsbane, Sunspot, Havoc, Angel, Spike and Berzerker. Both teams were ordered to search a designated area, report to the team if they found the flag or anyone from the opposing team. Of course, no doubt it was every team and person for himself or herself, meaning if an opponent was uncovered, you used everything you had against them.

Rogue hid behind a large tower of crates. 'Very creative, Logan,' she thought sarcastically, that déjà vu feeling creeping itself into her system. 'Just like when we battled the Acolytes for the first time,' she thought bitterly to herself. The boxes were only stacked two to three high, next to each other to create a maze. There were some supposedly deserted warehouses slightly beyond the thicket of wooden boxes. It was no problem to get lost and create a full circle in this confusion. You always ran into someone, which is what most of her teammates did.

Already she was told that everyone from the other team, save for Jean and Shadowcat, had been taken out. As for Rogue's team, it was just her now. Cyclops had been taken out a few minutes ago. 'Wonder how that happened,' she wondered. How they got any of the advanced students out, she would never know. How she herself hadn't got out, was a mystery within itself. This training session was only supposed to last an hour at most, and most of the students were out. 'Logan's not going to be too happy,' she groaned.

Already, the hour was almost up. Only five or ten minutes were left in the gathering and Rogue had yet to find the flag or the last two mutants. From behind a large crate, she peered out, anxious to find something that would end the session. Another long ally of crates met her, narrow into solitary confinement. Nobody was there. She hid back again. An overwhelming nervous sensation attacked her stomach. She knew it wasn't hunger or anxiety for once, only that someone was there. Foretelling clenched her heart, pulsing it to beat faster. A few seconds passed before she dared to look out again.

On the other side of the wooden wall, Shadowcat's brunette head barely popped out from the crate, phased only until her neck. Rogue yanked her head back from Kitty's view, praying she hid in time as to not have been seen. A loud breath slowly left Kitty. She knew Kitty had fully left her phased state.

Something swelled in her mind. It was familiar, usually always came before a psyche in her head decided to have their say. 'You know what you have to do,' the psyche chanted in her mind. The voice was deep and commanding; it led her to do the one thing she absolutely hated. Yet, she obeyed, knowing it would eventually cost her.

Off came the black glove on her right hand and into the belt it went. Again, she peered out, finding that Kitty was walking down the other direction of where Rogue stood. Kitty walked cautiously down the narrow pathway the boxes created, slowly checking each direction on her left and right sides, both hands stance in a fight position. Dread washed over Rogue and left her heart and mind numb. The voices simmered then hushed quickly, watching Rogue's movements through her own eyes in a dazed stupor. Closer to her friend she stepped, hand outstretched, slightly shaking, then jumped as Kitty started to speak.

"Jean, like, where are you?" she asked in her valley girl tone, speaking into the microphone.

"I'm on to of a pile to the right of you. Have you found Rogue yet? She's the last one." Kitty peered out slowly to the new pathways she found before answering softly.

"No. She's going to be hard to get, especially since Mr. Logan said you couldn't use your telepathy. I, like-" Kitty stopped dead. A cold hand pressed itself against the back of her neck and held it there.

"Shadowcat?" Jean called her name out through the microphone after she had stopped dead. When Kitty didn't answer, she grew urgent. "Shadowcat- are you there? Have you spotted Rogue? Kitty!"

Shivers made Kitty stop cold and end what she was saying. Energy was quickly making its way out of the small brunette's body, as if her life was being sucked away by a powerful vacuum, leaving her to feel drowsy. The brutal urge to sleep her life away slapped her immediately. Time had stopped in her mind. Her jumble of thoughts quickly became sluggish and muddy. She could no longer remember what she was thinking about. Noise faded, leaving the only thing for her to hear was the sound of her thunderous, but slowing heartbeat pound in her head. The cold on her neck was left as a thing in the past. Slowly she saw the ground come up to greet her, almost smacking her on the head. Before it could touch her, soft arms caught and cradled her, placing her safely on the ground. Sleep was coming to drown her, and as it did, she heard a twanged voice whisper.

"Ah'm sorry, Kit."

It took the standard few seconds until the new memories forced their way into Rogue's mind. She swayed as it quickly clouded over in her head, confusing and blending with her memories. 'I am the Rogue,' she chanted over and over as she forced herself through the muddle. Soon she could feel the thoughts and memories return to their true owner. The new, revitalized voice rang in her head, comforting the hurt soul.

/Like, it's totally okay, Rogue. You, like, do what you have to, right/

Rogue took one last sad look at her weakened friend. Remorse filled every inch of her being, like a strengthened wildfire. It was for this reason Rogue hated these battling sessions. Using your own curse to battle against your very best friend make her want to crawl in a dark hole and cry. She looked away abashedly and stood up. She now had Kitty's power for the time being. Was it really worth it?

Holding her breath, she phased through an empty crate on the right of her and walked through some to find another pathway. Nothing. Again, she ran into more crates, and popped her head out. Still nothing. She propelled herself upwards, poking her head through the top. Only a mere box over stood the ever-so-radiant Jean Grey, facing the other way in perfect poise. Obviously, she searched for the one named Rogue.

Kitty's phasing power slowly ebbed away from Rogue's mental grasp. It would last for only another thirty seconds or so, and then she would be forever trapped in the crate if she didn't get out soon. The rest of Rogue phased up soundlessly and stood behind her, close enough to smell the faint scent of her luxury perfume.

Jean was specifically told not to use her telepathy just to make it harder for the perfect red head. Even still, Rogue built her mental blocks for precaution that Jean decided to ignore the rules and search for Rogue mentally. Hand still ungloved from her last attack, she quietly, yet swiftly, made her small steps towards the tall, glowing telepath. Breathing became harder; her heartbeat had quickened on an adrenaline rush. It was time for the kill.

Rogue stood right behind her, hand outstretched, nearly touching the flawless neck. Warmth flared off of the girl in front of her. Vitality, memories, and energy pulsed through her veins and she could feel it in her sensitive hands. Desire awoke in her. She wanted so desperately a part of that life, those memories. She wanted energy to flow freely through her trembling body and make her fearless of the consequences. This desire quaked from the darkest depth of her thoughts. It was accompanied by the dark voice that commanded her earlier.

/Do it./ it hissed, echoing of the chamber of her thoughts. It vibrated, seeming to be spoken, yet no words were said. It left as soon as it came. That deep tone confused her and ruptured her logic, sending her into a sleeplike haze. It led her into the deep recesses of her own delicate psyche. From the back of her mind she watched, as her world grew hazy and quiet, as the dark voice took over her body. What was once hers was not; she was helpless and alone, unable to gain control.

The voice stepped closer towards the red head and took of the remaining glove, the clasp's noise alerting Jean that someone was behind her. Rogue watched as Jean whipped her head around and took a step back, gasping in bewilderment. She watched as her body took a step forward and closed both of her bare hands on Jean's surprised and seemingly scared face.

She was locked in an uncontrollable nightmare, the kind where you sleepwalked; you knew where you're going, but couldn't seem to pull yourself up from the dream onto the surface of consciousness. You were to be buried alive by the dream, to be aware, yet unable to act. It didn't occur to her what she was doing; until she felt the vacuum of her pale fingertips work its magic. She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate. Floods of memories flowed into Rogue. They all reeled in her head, like a silent movie gone too fast. She looked around her head; images played like a movie, each revealing something different: Jean's first kiss, being with Scott, her powers evolving. Everything was coming to her head at a rapid pace, cluttering her mind dangerously. It shouldn't have gone this far, the memories should have been gone by now. Then she realized the problem.

Rogue opened her eyes finally and yanked her hands away from Jean's face as if it was fire. Hesitation filled her head and hands. It was as if her hands didn't want to let go, yet relish the feeling of another's skin. It couldn't have been her; it was the voice that controlled what she just did. Her begging didn't stop it, or her internal screams. It did what it wanted. Rogue had left her silken hands on Jean longer than she had ever wanted to touch anyone. Jean's perfect body fell and lay limp on top of the crates before Rogue could catch her. The voices shook her mind before she could whisper her standard apology.

Thousands of voices exploded, each talking at their own speed, own pitches, own slang. They all pounded in her head. She pressed her temples, and then covered her ears in attempt to drown out the noise. She fell to her knees, crying at the pain still throbbing in her head.

/Is Jean okay? Is Rogue okay/

The last time she absorbed Jean, this did not happen. Jean's powers had certainly grown since before Apocalypse; obviously, so had Rogue's.

/Somebody needs to get down there now/

/Fire, no fire, fire, no fire. An' Pyro said let thea be fire/

Voices rang in her head, rather poured into her ears and collected in her mind as if they were actually spoken next to her head. At first she assumed the psyches were driving her mad again, but they were not. It was Jean's telepathy picking up thoughts from all around. She recognized whose thoughts they were; they were the ones of the X-men.

/I wonder what I should wear to school/

/Man, my hands are totally aching./

The voices, there were just too many of them. She was being drowned under everything, left unable to think for herself. She started gasping for air and moaning loudly. Within her own mind she felt like she was being caged into a trap. It was all too much. The pain slowed her thinking to a dull murmur. Conscienceless, she could feel her mind and body go into shock. Registering anything took much concentration, which she had no energy for.

/Is she really lifting all of those crates around her/

/It's a total mad house down there! What's wrong with Rogue/

She knew she was still cradling her head, waiting for the pain to pass. She was watching herself dream. It was quiet, like a black and white movie. It felt like the quiet destruction of the world portrayed in movies- mass chaos with the pictures showing silent reels of toddlers crying and people screaming. All she realized that was she couldn't help herself out of her mental stupor. From her hyperventilation, she felt dizzy, unable to concentrate.

Finally, she opened her emerald eyes wearily. Black dots danced in front of her face. She was still in the Danger Room. It had to be over, it just had to be. There was no sound but the dreary hum of her heartbeat in the back of her mind. It was the only thing there, the deep monotonous ticking. It went slow. It pulsed with the pound and throb of her migraine. It flowed with the rush of her blood. It swirled with the thoughtless mess. She struggled to not fall over and sleep. She fought to focus wearily on one thing: the flag.

/Such power, uncontrolled and raw…/

/Mein Gott! Mein Schwester! What is she doing/

/She's going to hurt herself with those crates/

Rogue was the last X-Men standing. She needed that flag, to prove her worthy. Using Jean's still present powers, she lifted up herself slowly, drowsily over the crate.

/Xavier, ya need to get down here now/

/Hank, get the room ready/

Through the black spots dotting her vision, and slow blinking, she could faintly see the flag waving in a space surrounded completely by boxes. It waved its red end about carelessly. It took all of her energy to fly towards the flag. Slowly, she could feel the source of Jean's power die, along with her own energy. Rogue blacked out, and fell from the air.

And then the nightmares came.

* * *

Eep! This is late! I honestly meant to post it on Thursday, honestly! But I got lazy and distracted by the evil that is called internet… Beware it's awful powers…Oo So anyways… Thank all of y'all for reviewing. Y'all made me feel loved D I got onto AOL a while after I posted and I saw emails and reviews. sniff And here I thought I wouldn't get any! You know how to make a gal feel special. Keep those reviews coming in! I want more reviews this chappy! And don't be afraid to give me suggestions because, gad knows I can't think at all during the summer. I probably won't make any shout out references…

Jus for your info, there is no ROMY yet… But stick around cuz there will definitely be ROMY in my lil story. It'll just be after the 3rd or 4th chapter. (I gotta get through some depressing things before our favorite Cajun marches his way into our hearts.) I'll definitely make some other couples present BUT NEVER FEAR! This is a total, full blow, fluffy-ish romy story. Because we got to give props out to the Southerners! I'll probably only make mentioning of the other couples…

I'm trying my best to remember my ideas and write them down, but with summer school and job hunting and driving classes… and the constant urge to sleep, its been a little difficult. And the fact I have very little attention span and usually spend all of my time on the internet… Jeez, I wonder how my poor little lappytop can take it anymore! Oh jeeze, someone shut me up I'm rambling. So, anyways. Its my goal to finish this story by summer's end. So if I don't, don't be afraid to bitch at me. I probably deserve it.

Until next time, press the lil purple button! You know you wanna!

Toodles to your noodles! w00t!

MidniteAngelGoth


	3. Chapter 3: Remembrance

**Summary:** It's after Apocalypse and everything is peachy for everyone on the X-Men team. Everyone that is, except the one known as Rogue. Slowly, the psyches in her mind are taking over her life and her mind, making her sink into a deep, dark depression. Will the Rogue topple over the edge, or can a certain Remy LeBeau keep her sane? It's all about ROMY, baby! I will have hints of other couples, but FYI, it's definitely a ROMY. Rated for occasional profanity, cutting, depression, suicidal-ness, and lots of dark thoughts.

**Disclaimer:** If anything sounds remotely familiar, I do not own it. I do not own X-Men: Evolution or any of its affiliates. If I did, do you think I'd still be living in a crap-pile-of-a-town? I would be off in some happy place, like the Bahamas, Malibu, New York… 'Nuff said…

On With the Show!

**Tormented Sanity**

Chapter 3: Remembrance 

Voices. So many voices. They were muffled, hard to focus on what each one was saying. They each said different things. Some were anguished, sad, mournful, excited. Others positively screamed in her already throbbing head. Granted they didn't actually scream at her, just in her.

She couldn't think straight; much less hear her own pained thoughts. The pain. It hurt like no other, like a madman crushing her head with a large sledgehammer in a direly violent rampage. It circulated all around, not missing a single inch of her skull. The noise just added to the nerve-wracking throbbing. There was no place from where the noise started from; it was just there, like an unnoticed presence. There were no speakers or windows in her small padded cell. There was no way the noise could penetrate the walls. The girl was utterly encased in silence and solitude.

Yet the voices wouldn't shut up. They said whatever they wanted to say- the noise was enough to make any sane person scream. It was as if someone had stuck a miniature speaker in her ear and blew it up full blast. The girl desperately wanted them to stop.

Over and over again she screamed her sobs into the empty, desolate room, yet it stuck to no avail. This mindless chatter confused her horribly and she couldn't help but cry in her misery. The padded corner she had huddled up against gave no solace; no matter how far she shrunk back, the babble retained its volume. At last, the child could not take the pain.

The pretty little girl started banging her small head into a padded wall. It produced a small ache, nothing compared to that of the turmoil burning in her mind. She struggled valiantly to fight the tightly wound straightjacket holding her thin framed body. No matter how hard she pushed, the white padded walls of her cell bounced her farther back. Again and again she tried, anguished in the fact she could not stop the continuous pain. She took many tries, but to no avail; if anything, she received large bruises that encompassed the whole of her body.

Finally, the poor girl fell, unable to fight her restraints. She squirmed around, thrashing her legs, tossing and turning, shouting and screaming near obscenities nonstop, while incessantly beating her head on the padded floor. The room was too bright; the lights above her bright enough for her not to open her eyes.

Suddenly, strong hands gripped her small arms and yanked her up roughly. Confused, she looked around herself with racking sobs and tears pouring down her face. There were two men at her side, covered in dark green scrubs and weapons adorned at their sides.

"Make them stop," she pleaded desperately, "just please make them shut up!" she clenched her eyes shut then reopened them. White flashed at the corner of her eyes and grabbed her attention. In the doorway stood a tall man, in brown pants and a long white doctor's medical coat. He promptly motioned for the men to follow him. It was then when the child finally realized what was really happening.

Louder became her screams when she saw him. Frantic became her struggles to get free. The two burly guards held her taut and began to follow the doctor out the room. The small body kicked and screamed in protest. In a failed attempt she tried to yank her arms away from her captors. Her whole body jerked in a wild endeavor to break free. Occasionally the guards would have to pull her up in the air to have her follow. After a while her arms grew numb and tired, yet her cries intensified.

The group walked through desolate, lonely halls, each occupied with different cells. There were doors, laden with a glass window, to which each compartment began. Each cubicle had a wondering person who had heard the girl's cries from afar. They all pressed their faces in the small window to watch the rabid girl squirming viciously with tears pouring down her bruised face. Pity fell onto her; didn't she know it was easier not to object following and just to shut up? Fright cast onto her hazel green eyes, she watched, through her screams the many wandering faces through the windowpane, their noses and cheeks pressed up, steam fogging up the windows.

They passed dozens of windows of the same containments, turned many directions and crossed through many of the high security doors before entering a cold, dark room. It was a concrete, four-walled room with one door, no windows, and not an inch of color. Smack dab in the middle of the room was a gurney, barley sufficed with an inch thick cardboard like mattress. The side was attached with metal rails on the side. On these rails were leather straps on both sides. Two were at the foot, two attached at the middle, one at the head of the bed, and one near the neck. The guards lifted the squirming child on the bed, pushing her down long enough for the doctor to strap her head, neck, arms, and legs to the bed. The hold was tight, nearly cutting off circulation.

Around the bed were numerous machines, just yelling to be tried out. There was an experiment lab on the right of her, which was where the doctor stood, concentrating on mixing the chemicals in front of him. The girl looked at him in horror and prayed he didn't do what he did last time. She was utterly wrong.

Two female nurses came into the room, whispering something to each other. They stood by the door, and then came in the room once given unclear orders. One blonde nurse came up to the girl and started applying different patches on the girl's scantily clad body the second nurse had needles in her hand. She poked the needles harshly into the girl's skin, holding them in place with the patches. She barely felt the poke and prod of the nurses.

What her mind was really focused on was the doctor. From the corner of her eye she saw a beaker filled to the brim with Kool-Aid blue serum in it. The doctor placed a long, thick needle in the beaker, soaking up much of the beaker's contents. Her screams intensified as she saw him, her weak struggles became seizures. The doctor strode up momentarily to her, needle ready in hand, and then took a hold of her arm. Her movement wouldn't allow him to strike a vein and he tried hard to quiet her. The convulsions continued, as he grew quite agitated.

The two nurses tried to aid in holding her more but that only fueled her more. A popping sound crackled in back of them, then another, as if glass was shattering all around of them. The machines around them hay wired, beeping incessantly without cause. The doctor paid no mind, only barked at the nurses when they tried to figure out the cause of the mishaps. He pushed the needle into her skin only to have it pressed back out. Putting more weight in, he cried out exasperatedly, "Damnit! Hold on, Jean!" He poked the needle in her skin, hitting a vein immediately, and then injected all of the blue serum into it.

Immediately after, a burning sensation washed repeatedly over her increasingly difficult body. She let loose a deafening scream.

Rogue's violent shake awoke herself to an upright position and her eyes flung wide open. Bright, almost blinding sun-like lights filled her vision, bouncing off the whitewashed walls only to come back more radiant. Beds filled the room, along with medical equipment next to each. Bed bars held both sides of the bed she was placed on; white immaculate sheets bunched up around her. A gray finger tab held her delicately pale left ring finger; the constant beeping sound that accompanied the tab sounded at her left. After a long, foggy moment, Rogue recognized where she was.

"Gawddamnit! Ah'm in here again!" she cried out disbelieving her current position. She leaned back on the pillows in a huff, crossing her arms over her chest and letting a clearly annoyed look cross her features. A hearty chuckle answered her from the other side of the Med Bay. Following the sound came a large, blue haired beast, a clipboard in one hand and a smile on his face.

"Something tells me you are growing quite a dislike of awaking here, am I right, Miss Rogue?" Hank asked.

"You would be too," she mumbled.

"Is it that my company bores you?" Hank teased.

"No, rather it's the fact that Ah'm always in here with something wrong," she grumbled. Pain gnawed at the back of her head. Rogue lightly pressed the back of her head with two fingers. It felt tender and swollen. A bruise was already forming, a rather big one. "Ah swear, it's lahke every other week Ah'm in hear with something new wrong with meh!"

Hank laughed again.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

Rogue visibly winced as she pressed the bruise again, somewhat harder. A gasp escaped her mouth as pain branched out around her sore head. The psyches were hyper from the replay of Jean's memory and were giving her another unneeded headache. She shot a withering look at Hank's question. It was obvious to anyone with half a brain, wasn't it? Rogue was not a happy camper. She groaned.

"Did a truck run over meh?" she asked back.

"As a matter of fact, no," he replied puzzled.

"Are you sure?" she sneered. " Because it feels lahke a truck ran right over mah head, put it in reverse, and did it again," she replied sarcastically as Hank pulled off her finger clip and copied her vitals on the clipboard.

"Well, from what I was informed, you did receive quite a fall. Amazing you didn't receive a major head injury," Hank marveled, talking more to himself than Rogue at the prospect of it. Rogue snorted.

"Ya, well, if its any consolation, it feels lahke Ah got one," she retorted. Looking around, she blew back a chunk of her hair that had blocked her vision.

To her dismay, everything looked the same from the last time she had been here. Unfortunately, the walls were still a bright white, as with the sheets. There were five beds, aligned side by side with various machines in the gaps between them. There was a single chair next to the bed, for the visitors.

Along the walls of the other side were glass cabinets filled with mounds of cotton balls, Baggies, tongue suppressors, and many other unnamable medical items that had been used on Rogue more times than she cared to remember. Underneath the wall hanging cabinets were the tables, filled messily with random items. On one side was a mountain of books, some medical, some just for pleasure. A laptop lay hazardously plugged up next to a printer and another computer.

In another section was where Hank conducted his experiments. He had a Bunsen burner, test tube holders, test tubes… and broken piles of glass that were sprayed on the table and ground? Something didn't make sense. Rogue looked around and noticed more unusual, for Hank, things. Papers were scattered on the floor around Hank's desk. The desk itself looked like it was shoved randomly into a weird angle. Even Hank's clothes and hair looked disheveled. No, this definitely didn't make sense. Hank wasn't the neatest person, but he certainly wasn't this disorganized.

"Jesus Christ! Did some kind of tornado come in while Ah was sleeping or something?" she exclaimed incredulously. Hank smiled, ruefully looking around his whirl winded Med Bay.

"Yes, in fact it was tornado Rogue, twirling full speed from Caldacott, Mississippi." Hank glanced at Rogue and grinned at her puzzled expression. "After you absorbed Jean and came in, her powers activated while you slept. Various items levitated due to her telekinesis, including you for a minute there," he explained.

"Are you serious?" Rogue gasped when he nodded. She opened her eyes to the damage she had created.

/You're powers are always a problem. They create chaos wherever you go, see/ The always commanding voice prodded.

'Shut up!' she mentally shrieked. 'It wasn't mah fault!'

/Yes it was. It always it. /

The last comment got Rogue livid.

'Go to hell!' she mentally screamed at it. She used her draining mental strength and shoved the voice into the corner of her mind.

"Ah'm really sorry. Can Ah help you clean up or something?" she asked, truly feeling remorse at what had happened. Hank shook his head fiercely.

"No, no, Miss Rogue. You need to rest." The Med Bay's entrance suddenly caught his attention as he walked briskly to the door.

"And I believe you have visitors." Hank opened the door and in fell Kitty, and on top of her, Kurt. Both looked up to Hank, a sheepish, silly grin on Kurt's face. Kitty, however stared at Hank in wonder, as if to ask how he knew they were there. Hank merely pointed to his ears, then held out his hand to Rogue, as if presenting her to them for the first time.

"Like, hi!" Kitty squeaked, finally seeing Rogue. Kurt immediately bounced up and ran next to Rogue. He obviously had an ecstatic response to his sister's awakening. He nearly jumped her and attacked her in a bear hug with his tail wagging behind him happily. "Mein schwester!"

"Kurt!" Rogue managed to gasp out. "Suffocating…as in… not breathing!" Kurt released his death grip on her, a tremendous smile pasted on his face.

"Like, hey Rogue," Kitty greeted her as joyfully, yet more aware of the fact that her friend needed her personal space. Both friends sat at the edges of her bed, watching their recovering friend stare just as quietly back.

"It's good to see you awake, Rogue," Kurt drawled.

"We were, like, starting to get really worried," Kitty told her.

"Believe me, it's great to be up," she confirmed.

"What happened out there?" Kurt asked.

"Yeah, I woke up and saw you hit the ground pretty hard." Kitty's expression changed instantly to concerned as she remembered the sight of Rogue falling from mid-air. She watched as Rogue played with her fingers.

"Ah kind of lost control of Jean's power and blacked out in the air." The sudden thought of Jean crossed her mind, alarming her to think of what happened to the redhead. Though she didn't like her, Rogue wondered how bad she had hurt Jean. "Do ya'll know if Jean is alright? Is she still out?" Rogue felt an obligation to ask, but the guilt wasn't forced. If Jean were still out, Rogue wouldn't be able to forgive herself. She very much regretted every holding on. Something else had held on to Jean, kicking herself out of control. The very thought scared her.

"Jean's totally alright," Kitty consoled her.

"Yea, Jean voke up after you came into zee Med Bay," Kurt quipped.

"How long ago was that?" Rogue inquired.

"This morning," Kitty told her.

"This morning? You make it seem lahke such a long time ago. What time is it now?"

Kurt looked at his holowatch. "It's a little after eight," Kurt told her. Rogue gave him a suspicious look.

"AM or PM?" she asked slowly.

"PM," Kurt replied warily. Rogue's jaw dropped.

"Are you serious? You mean to tell meh Ah've been passed out all day?" she exclaimed. The two teens in front of her nodded meekly.

"I, like brought your homework," Kitty squeaked. Rogue moaned and buried her head in her hands, while falling back on the pillows.

"This is ridiculous! Ah'm missing way too much school because of always being sick! Ah'm never going to pass this year!" the three teens stayed quiet. All that was heard was Hank clicking and typing on his computer.

"So what'd Logan say bout this morning's session?" she asked, somberly awaiting the dreary answer. She could have laughed at the way Kitty and Kurt both painfully winced.

"Well, he, like, wasn't pleased at all," she confessed.

"Herr Logan yelled at us for letting so many of us get out." He grimaced to think of how a new recruit caught him off guard. Rogue shifted position and crossed her legs.

"Did he… say anything about meh?" she questioned softly, then shifted positions again.

"No. He totally scolded Jean because she didn't keep her guard up. I think Mr. Logan came to check up on you a while ago, though," Kitty informed her.

"Oh," she looked away and sighed. "Dr. McCoy, do you think Ah could go?"

Hank popped his head out from around his large computer. "Well normally, I would say no, but seeing as you have spent most of your residence here…" he trailed off, leaving Rogue to draw the conclusions. Rogue's eyes visibly brightened. That's all she needed to hear.

"Thanks, Dr. McCoy!" Rogue yanked back the covers and swung her feet over the edge. Standing, she swayed a bit. Kitty and Kurt laughed. She shot them her Death Look. She leaned over and picked up her combat boots. Kitty and Kurt followed her as she walked out of the Med Bay.

"So what did Ah miss at good old Bayville High today?" Rogue drawled out sarcastically.

"Well, like, some of those stupid jocks started a totally icksome food fight and like, so pelted some of the Brotherhood Boys. I swear, like, Lance almost made the earth open up below them," she smiled. Rogue rolled her eyes.

"In other words, nothing new," she concluded.

"Ja, those boys will be expelled sooner or later," Kurt chipped in.

A few moments passed as they walked through the large mansion. Another headache was presenting itself loud and clear in her cluttered head. It was a never-ending uphill battle. She just couldn't win. Not to mention she felt sticky in her battle uniform and was in dire need of a shower.

"Hey, like, you want to go watch a movie downstairs with us?" Kitty asked. Rogue shook herself out of thoughts.

"Actually, Ah was going to go and take a shower. This uniform isn't the best thing to be sleeping in," she declined.

"Okay, well, have a fun shower. C'mon Kurt!" Kitty began dragging him from the staircase. "Later, Rogue," she called back as she took him to the Rec Room.

"Yeah, bye," she mumbled half-heartedly. Rogue began her travel to her room. Maybe a shower would make her feel better. Then she laughed at herself. Nothing could make her feel good. Control, maybe, but that was nowhere near the horizon. That thought settled itself in the pit of her empty stomach. Each passing day her hope dwindled. Hope for control over her life.

'Hope,' she frowned silently at the concept, 'is the denial of reality.'

* * *

Guess what peoples! It's Thursday! Meaning- Update day! W00t!

Yea, "Hope is the denial of reality" is my favoritest quote in the world. I'm weird, yea I know. So there you go, more nightmare goodness and uncontrollable ness from the Roguey. I finally went back to read this chapter, and I was "Holy shit, It's long and it has no action!" Yea, so that's what's getting me, its like my story has no action in it, just meaningless babble…oO Am I right? Don't worry, I think my story will get better, just stressed right now… and its summer- who can think during the summer? And I was calculating all of my chapters so far, and the first…four or five chapters occur in one day! I'm weird for dragging this on ehy?

So yea, anyways, I promised ROMY in the third-fourth chapter, but, I'm currently working on the fourth chapter, and when I had originally written it, it's fricken long. So I'm debating on cutting it in half… so we're probably not getting into the ROMY until the fifth or sixth chapter…. But oh, the ROMYness fluff that shall ensue! It shall be grandness upon grandness.

So thank you all my reviewers, who to me, are too many to count. I take into consideration on all of them, so don't think you get left unheard! Just keep them review comin in yo! Because they make me feel loved. I'll have the next chapter out by next week, I'm sure, and it will be a lil more … depressing and what not than before… so beware…Xx

Toodles to Your Noodles!

MidniteAngelGoth


	4. Chapter 4: Nirvana

**Summary:** It's after Apocalypse and everything is peachy for everyone on the X-Men team. Everyone that is, except the one known as Rogue. Slowly, the psyches in her mind are taking over her life and her mind, making her sink into a deep, dark depression. Will the Rogue topple over the edge, or can a certain Remy LeBeau keep her sane? It's all about ROMY, baby! I will have hints of other couples, but FYI, it's definitely a ROMY. Rated for occasional profanity, cutting, depression, suicidal-ness, and lots of dark thoughts.

**Disclaimer:** If anything sounds remotely familiar, I do not own it. I do not own X-Men: Evolution or any of its affiliates. If I did, do you think I'd still be living in a crap-pile-of-a-town? I would be off in some happy place, like the Bahamas, Malibu, New York… 'Nuff said…

On With the Show!

**Tormented Sanity**

Chapter 4: Nirvana 

Control.

One word, seven letters, two syllables that meant so much to Rogue. It took so much for Rogue to gain anything near control in her jumbled head. It was getting extremely hard. The psyches in her head seemed to be anti-control. They were rebellious little children, refusing to go to bed.

Quite frankly, Rogue was getting sick of it.

They always had something to say, whether it be to themselves, the other psyches or to Rogue. She wished she had enough mind control to completely lock them away, but she lost both will and way a long time ago. The professor couldn't help her now. No doubt he had tried, but one could only do so much. She was a lost cause no, she assumed. He did do so much, but Apocalypse and his henchmen unraveled his efforts. And slowly, with her dying control, the Rogue was also unraveling. She could feel it. Rogue was inching her way to the end.

Rogue made her way into her room and gathered her bath items and clothes, then her make-up bag. It took her some time to find her clothes. All her clothes were spread around the room, from her earlier rampage. She gathered everything and stalked out of the room, towards the main bathroom. Knocking twice, she heard no one answer, for once, and let herself in.

There were many bathrooms at the Xavier estate. Each of the guestrooms had one, also the same for the teachers, yet there was only one for the girl's wing and one for the boy's wing. With the many new recruits and regular X-Men, things were very hectic, especially in the mornings. Rogue herself preferred to shower at night, but that wasn't always an option. Though few in number, the bathrooms themselves were lavish and large.

Rogue dropped her clothes, make-up, and bathroom items on the nearby counter. Then she kneeled down and picked up a clean blue towel and placed it by the bathtub. Gathering all of her bath items, she stuck them in the tub and turned on the faucet. The water ran cold then, as she adjusted it, it turned lukewarm.

The Goth girl stripped quickly out of her spandex. As hard as she tried to not look, Rogue glanced at her forearms as they folded the clothes. It didn't matter, the strawberry gashes that decorated her arms stood out beyond her pale white skin. The insides of her forearms and wrists were adorned with long, beautiful scars. Long, new, self-inflicted scars.

The first time Rogue had ever really gashed herself was by pure accident. She had been residing in the Brotherhood at the time. It was her night to cook dinner, or salvage something that would be considered edible. The boys were upstairs, participating in what normal people would call World War III. To the boys however, it would be known as the weekly make-Toad-take-a-bath-athon. As normal as this could ever come across to be, tonight, Toad put up an extra fuss. And so did the other boys. All throughout the house could the coarse cries, screams, and pathetic pleas filled the house. There were crashes, thumps, and noises you wouldn't expect high school boys to make coming from upstairs. They were using their powers, she was sure of that. Every few minutes you could hear Pietro's whiz of feet across the carpet. Rogue was positive that the muffled cries were the cries of being muffled into the Blob when he caught Toad. Then, the most obvious of all, was Lance's earthquakes.

Usually, Rogue would pay no mind to the little rumbles. She'd of course, yell at the guys for being so loud, and then yell at Toad, which usually ended the whole marathon, him ending up in the tub of course. But tonight… she couldn't handle it. Her mutant problems were getting to her while she chopped vegetables. And tonight…things were rougher. She guessed it was possibly the guys trying to do it on their own and not letting her help, but she didn't care. Except that there were more things broken and they were inching closer and closer to her room.

One loud yell, from Lance, emancipated and so did an earthquake. An earthquake, not a rumble this time. It jolted the whole house. The lamps, the pictures, and Rogue.

Rogue, with the sharp knife, cutting things over the sink. Rogue, the girl with it dangerously close to her wrist.

And what you might think happen did. The earthquake made her jerk forward and slash a welt into her arm. It was only a few millimeters deep, really. Funny, her first reaction was to cry out. Never had she been cut so deep. But somehow… this cut was different. She felt the burn of the knife's friction, but yet she saw no blood emerge. Surprisingly, all that emerged was a thick line of white beneath her already white skin. The white slowly began to offspring pores of crimson, than a river. It poured out. And with it, her anxiety poured out too. It was relief. From then on, she had been entranced and infatuated with the act of cutting.

This had almost been a year ago. It was not the last time either. Her torn up arms have shown that. It was intoxicating and sometimes she didn't want to stop. Even still, her conscious mind gave her two basic rules to follow. The first was she would wait until her previous cuts had healed before she would allow herself more cuts. Her second rule was to only cut in the bathroom, which was obvious. With only girls in the bathroom, it was obvious there was to be blood, therefore Logan with his enhanced senses, wouldn't question, and Kitty or Kurt wouldn't walk in a bathroom unannounced. The first rule had long been eliminated, and she was now treading dangerously close to breaking the second rule.

. Everything seemed to slow whenever she dragged her razor across her skin. Rogue tried many times to stop, yet it was a drug- addictive and mesmerizing. It was her solace, her nirvana. It solved her internal struggle. And she noticed after a few times, that it didn't just calm her nerves, but all of the psyches too. That was her reason now, the excuse she used that prevented her from stopping so long ago.

Rogue looked at the scars on her arms again and new she was safe. Each scar held a story behind them, a story nobody else would know. Nobody knew, or so she hoped. She used her layers of clothing to her advantage. The only fall in her plot was her frequent flyer miles to the Med Bay. In her visitations, who's to say Hank never noticed? It was a fat chance, she knew, and she wasn't planned with a way to explain.

Sighing, she stepped into the shower. She quickly lathered her head with shampoo and hissed in pain at her swollen bruise. She took a few seconds to massage it, then moved on. She lathered her body with a loofa. The suds grew and covered her petite, and almost flawless (save for her arms) body.

/Such a shame, a flawless body, yet no use for it./ a loud psyche boomed. It was Magneto. She imagined him shaking his head whilst coming up with something harder to say.

"Shut up," she hissed, attempting to ignore it.

/And lest, the perfect skin be one with the untouchable body…/ crooned Mesmero.

"Fuck off!" Rogue mentally screamed.

Their thoughts angered her. She scrubbed harder and harder, the pink lines eventually turning into a strawberry color, instantly clashing with her pale skin. Every shower, thoughts like these commenced, each time doing its job by agitating her. And ever still, the thought of being able to scrub enough skin off would solve her problems. Each shower ended the same, in desperation. The only thing she managed to do was beat a tomato to a cherry color.

Rogue slumped down in the shower and leaned against the tile. She placed her hands in front of her face and studied them.

Vampire.

Soul sucker.

Death Bringer.

The names given to her, no, burdened to her by her fingers, her skin.

'What makes mah skin so different?'

Her immaculate hands didn't seem any different from anyone else's. Her long milky fingers were decorated on the fingertips with black nail polish. Her right hand held two stainless steel bands, one that she never removed. One was placed on her index finger, the other on the thumb. But still, what made her skin so different. She analyzed her hands closer. Was it that none of her palm lines met? Was her fate sealed in that of her palm lines?

Rogue cleaned out her loofa and allowed the cold water to cleanse her body. She hesitated to turn the water knob. Then she stopped. That feeling was back.

Slowly, Rogue pulled her hand back and unknowingly wrapped her arms around herself. A tiny shiver escaped and escaladed down her spine. She closed her wondering eyes and let the pleasant feeling overtake her. A warm sensation swept throughout her body. She felt excited, almost giddy in this contentment. Tiny butterflies flew in her empty stomach, anticipating something unknown to Rogue.

Her fingers loosened from her grip and attempted to pull something from in front of her. One hand touched her heart, the other grabbing lightly thin air. All of her muscles relaxed, her mind lost in the warmth. Through her fingertips, she felt her heartbeat become irregular and faster. Her mind felt clear, quiet, and serene.

Anything that had resembled chaos before was gone. Her psyches simmered with it, wondering what was happening, what she was feeling. She was at ease. No more pain, unhappiness, or fear. As the feeling faded, she swore she smelt something vaguely familiar. It was quick, a flash of something she once knew, but then forgot. She felt safe, as if the smell brought back childhood memories. She recognized the mesmerizing scent more and more as something familiar and comforting.

'It's…spices, no gumbo, and… cigarettes…' she though. 'Who…'

Rogue's heart leaped. Her eyes shot open in question. She hastily turned off the water and pushed her head out of the shower curtain to examine out.

Nothing. The room was empty, save for her. The mad rhythm of her heart slowed. The small smile that had graced itself of Rogue's lips slowly diminished, then vanished all together. The once hopeful eyes fell disappointed.

'For a minute there Ah thought it might be him…" Rogue hastily shook her head, trying to rid her head of the thought. She grabbed the nearby town and started to dry off.

'Stupid Cajun… can't get him outta mah head now… Gawd damn him!' Rogue cursed.

/Aww, like how cute! I like, think Rogue has a total crush on the guy/ Kitty's psyche began.

'C'mon Kit, not now! An' no Ah don't,' Rogue backtracked.

/Its not my fault you two would look so totally cute together…/ Kitty's voice faded off. Rogue scoffed as she pictured the sophomore with a shrug.

/Keety! Nien! She vill only get hurt by zat player/ Kurt argued.

/Hey, you guys have to give Gambit a chance. You don't even know him/ Jean began.

/Jean/ Scott's voice began to whine. /How can you say that? He's the enemy/

'Would all of ya'll jus' shut up?' Rogue tried, a headache coming on. Her voice was drowned out by the other voices trying to have their share.

/Stripes, he's bad news. Elf was right. Gumbo's just a player. He'll hurt you…/ Wolverine backed out of the conversation.

'Gawdamn, ya'll are actin' lahke we're datin'! Ah haven't seen him since N'Orleans,' she protested.

/Rogue/ Mystique's commanding voice appeared /He's a user Rogue. He used you once, he'll most likely use you again./

"Oh, you're the one ta take, Mystique," she spat back. In her anger, she worded her thought aloud.

Soon enough, nearly all of the psyches joined in. In competition with each other, they positively screamed at Rogue. By the end, most of them ended up bickering with one another.

/He's bad news…/

/He gave her his like, favorite card! He totally likes her…/

/Gambit's just a player, looking for the perfect challenge…/

Rogue moaned and grabbed her now throbbing head. She backed away from the shower and slid down unceremoniously against the opposite wall. Clenching her eyes shut. She willed them to stop. Nothing. If anything they grew louder and more ignorant of her pleas. They easily broke her mind blocks, even as she tried to set them up. She looked around, face grimaced with pain. It was no longer a headache, it was a migraine, and if she let this continue, it would be a concussion.

'Shut up! Just fucking shut up!' she mentally screamed.

And she let her eyes open to a slit. Before her was her near new razor. She grabbed it in desperation. She positioned the blade over her forearm. One quick motion was all it took. Almost immediately came the zinging pain. It felt like nothing compared to what havoc her mind was making. So came another.

Color blossomed from each of the cuts. On each line there was faint red, ready to poke through. Then, small drops of blood appeared on the line. The droplets fathered into a small stream of crimson liquid. In her mind, she felt the immediate attention of each other fall into wondering what she was doing. They all quieted down.

This was the reason she continued the dreadful act of cutting. Not to mar her skin incessantly, nor to give a silent cry for help. It was the only way to get a bit of peace and quiet.

She knew she couldn't always rely on the act of self-mutilation. Even so, she refused to face the reality she would have to quit sooner or later. It was her drug. An obsession and craving she needed. The way the blood reflected the light of day or the dark of night. How it seemed to erupt and diminish like a volcano. She watched the stream slowly reach down her arm, slowly, tip to the end and drip to the tile and staining it her awful crimson regret. Rogue grabbed a Kleenex and cleaned her mess. Then she watched another soak up the blood from her wound. She took it off only to be entranced by the small trickle. Again she repeated herself.

Finally, the cut had stopped its outpour. Things were quieter in the Rogue's head. The voices diminished themselves to incomprehensible whisperings. She gave a small smile.

And once again, the art of cutting had worked its magic.

She never knew why the voices diminished whenever she cut herself. Or really, whenever she performed a daring act.

'Now that Ah think about it…. Even if Ah mention… suicide or something like that… they shut up…' Rogue thought. 'Ah… guess they're just scared…'

Rogue could only imagine what it felt like, to know that their entire being would be eliminated with her suicide. Where would they go? They were only fragments of souls once lived. She guessed they'd be sent to a void. Would they go to heaven or hell? They would simply perish once she died. They were scared it might come too soon.

Rogue lifted herself up from her fallen position and threw the blood stained tissues into the toilet. She flushed and abruptly got dressed, just now realizing how long she had been occupying the bathroom. Clearing up her supplies, the tormented girl took one last look around the tiles to make sure no blood residue lingered. That being done, she wordlessly crept down the halls to her room.

It was a quiet night at the Institute. For once, nobody was roaming the halls, the guys weren't there to stare at her, afraid she might lash out, and the girls weren't there, begging for juicy gossip to sustain their social life. Everyone was in their room or down in the Rec Hall watching movies. She realized Logan would soon kick everyone out and send them to bed. The loud grandfather clock chimed 10 as Rogue moved. The door to her sanctuary opened as she stepped in.

The room, sad to say, was left untouched since her morning wake-up call. Clothes lay strewn hazardously around her room. Her vanity stood disheveled with makeup rolled on the ground. The covers were thrown back in obvious haste and crumpled in a heap at the foot of her bed. Rogue dropped her stuff aimlessly on the vanity and made her way to her bed. She curled up in a fetal position and just stayed there.

There was a distinct empty feeling plaguing her. Whether it was from something emotional or not, she couldn't tell. It was an empty hole, draining her away. It almost felt like "there's got to be more to life than this" feeling. Rogue pondered why she always felt this desecrate hunger filling her. Her eyes wandered around listlessly around the all too quiet room. Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of light knocking.

"Yeah?" Rogue called out.

"Like, Rogue, it's me," came Kitty's voice. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, come on in…" Rogue let her voice trail off.

A second later, Kitty phased in and walked as far as she could. Then she stopped and looked around in wonder.

"Like, whoa! What happened here?" She stood baffled at the still curled up Goth.

Rogue made a face. "Fahve thirty in tha mornin' happened. This was meh wakin' up late."

"Um, hello? Alarm clock?" Kitty looked around for one. "Where is yours?"

"Uh, yea, it broke," she quickly said. "Ah knocked it over one naght." All lies. She didn't dare tell what really happened. She remembered all too well though. The voices had been acting up, and in her migrained frustration, she accidentally charged her alarm clock with Gambit's power. This appeared to her with much surprise; she never mentioned it to anyone. The last thing on her list was everyone stepping around eggshells in fear of another freak-out.

"So like, how are you doing?" Kitty perched herself on the edge of Rogue's bed.

Rogue uncurled herself and sat up slowly. "Ah'm okay Ah guess. A lil' tired, but who isn't?"

Kitty gave her a weird look. "Tired? You spent the whole day sleeping!" Kitty exclaimed. Rogue snorted.

"It wasn't a very good sleep," she retorted. "Too many things in mah head." Kitty frowned. Rogue shrugged and hugged her legs to her chest and cradled her chin in the crook of her knees.

"Kit…Ah'm sorry," she whispered finally. A confused look crossed the young girl's face.

"For what?" she questioned.

"For earlier."

"Huh?" A blank face stared back at Rogue.

"For the Danger Room Session, Kit…" she reminded her. Still nothing.

"…what about it?"

"For absorbin' ya," she drawled. Finally, Kitty's blank face turned into a knowing face. Then she shrugged it off.

"It's like totally okay. You, like, do what you have to right?" She blew the apology off. As she said that, a smirk found its way on Rogue's face.

"That's exactly what your psyche said when Ah absorbed ya," she told her.

"Like, anyways, you already apologized," Kitty reminded her.

"You heard that?" Rogue asked surprised. A tiny giggle escaped Kitty.

"Like, I always hear you apologize when you absorb me." Rogue was subdued at this though.

"Ah never thought anybody heard meh when Ah apologized," she quietly stated.

"Well, like, you thought wrong," Kitty confirmed happily. She bounced off the bed and stood up. "Anyways, Mr. Logan sent us all up to our rooms, so I should, like, go now. Are you sure you're like, okay?" concern was distinctly etched on the petite girl's face.

"Yeah, Ah'm okay Kit." Rogue sent her a ghost of a smile. Kitty narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"You should go eat. You look, like totally pale."

"Ah'm not really hungry," came Rogue's swift reply. It dawned on her that she hadn't eaten all day. And it also came to her that Kitty realized this too.

"You, like, haven't eaten all day. You need to go eat," Kitty reasoned.

"Its okay, Kit, really." She watched as the valley girl's eyes further narrow. Kitty was in her Rogue imitation stance: hands on her hip and her leg stuck out.

"Go eat."

"No, Ah'm good." Both girls' glares matched each other, and then a mischievous glint flashed dangerously in the younger's eyes. A moment later, a slow, devious smile crept on to her face, created by obvious inspiration.

"Go eat, or else."

"Or else what?" she challenged. Kitty's smile widened to a gleeful smirk.

"Go eat, unless you want me to tell Hank you haven't been eating lately, so that he can stick you to a needle and force feed you in the _Med. Lab_."

Rogue's glare deepened and she shook her head in disgust.

"Ah hate you," she retorted, finally admitting defeat.

"And I love you," came Kitty's sweet response. The wicked smirk was now placed with a victorious and innocent smile. "Now, come on, we're going."

* * *

**Author's Note:** -Curls up in a ball and hides- Don't maim me please! I meant to update sooner, like a week ago sooner, but it wasn't my fault! It was my laptop and my parents. My laptop's linksys connection broke down and I couldn't access my files to upload them on And my dad was redoing our internet connection. It took a loooooong while to finally switch users, from aol to sbcyahoo… And yea, the process was finally completed last night, so now I have internet access! –cries- I'm so happy….

So about the chappy, was that angsty kinda? Rogue would seem like the person with the traits of a cutter, and it wouldn't matter if she did, because nobody could see the cuts anyways. I would use Logan's healing factor for it, but that's for later. Much later. I have a plan…. oO So yea, try to guess what that feeling trip she had was… just _guess_.

You all are probably wondering about my infamous ROMY I've been babbling on and on about, but never fear! I have next chapter pretty much done and that is when we intro our pretty Cajun Wonder! Not a whole bunch, but some. Next update should be sometime before Saturday. I absolutely promise.

Thank you to all meh reviewers. You're awesome. You rawk meh soxs. Werd. And lets not forget the process of reviewing for this chapter, _hien?_ First, you get your lil mousey thing to roll over the purple button on the bottom of the page. Then press the pretty purple button. Then you type your wonderful comments and SEND! Then MAG opens her email and gets them and she smiles and jumps up and down in happiness! W00t! It's that simple! So please please please review!

Toodles to your Noodles!

MidniteAngelGoth


	5. Chapter 5: Neglect

**Summary:** It's after Apocalypse and everything is peachy for everyone on the X-Men team. Everyone that is, except the one known as Rogue. Slowly, the psyches in her mind are taking over her life and her mind, making her sink into a deep, dark depression. Will the Rogue topple over the edge, or can a certain Remy LeBeau keep her sane? It's all about ROMY, baby! I will have hints of other couples, but FYI, it's definitely a ROMY. Rated for occasional profanity, cutting, depression, suicidal-ness, and lots of dark thoughts.

**Disclaimer:** If anything sounds remotely familiar, I do not own it. I do not own X-Men: Evolution or any of its affiliates. If I did, do you think I'd still be living in a crap-pile-of-a-town? I would be off in some happy place, like the Bahamas, Malibu, New York… 'Nuff said…

On With the Show!

**Tormented Sanity**

Chapter 5:

Rogue stared at her with apparent hatred. Kitty rolled her eyes and gave an exasperated sigh.

"Do you really want me to get Mr. Logan involved?"

That doing the trick, Rogue begrudgingly set down her legs and slowly lifted her off the bed, a pained expression stamped on her face. She followed the perky brunette to the kitchen without a word. Upon entrance, Kitty leaned on the counter, arms folded, and expectancy resident in her eyes. Rogue stood in the doorway, looking back at Kitty.

"What?"

"Eat!"

A heaved sign escaped Rogue's mouth. One look around the kitchen ordered her in a deep scavenger hunt through the multiple pantries of the kitchen. Nothing appealed to her vanished appetite. The last pantry door shut as Rogue gave Kitty a pleading look. Kitty shook her head, half in shock, half smirking.

"Are you totally serious? Out of the millions of cereals, soups, cans, even leftovers?" she asked incredulously. To her amazement, only a half hearted shrug was returned. "Sit," she commanded. Rogue feebly moved to the nearby stool that she was appointed to. Kitty walked around, gathering information from the pantries.

"Why are you doin' this?" Rogue asked suddenly. The quiet of the kitchen unnerved her. Kitty lifted her head from out of the refrigerator.

"Because," she began tenderly, "I care about you Rogue, a lot. You've been neglecting yourself lately, and I'm getting worried. Kurt, too."

Sincerity was evident in her words. Rogue noticed the key characteristic of her personality gone: the likes and totally that made her lingo. She felt oddly touched. Nobody was that blatantly honest with her like that. Her creased eyebrows loosened and for the first time in a while, a true, sincere smile presented itself.

"Ah… care about ya too, Kit-Kat, its just tha-" Rogue was cut off as the swinging door leading to the Rec Room swung open. Both girls swung their heads with it to meet their visitor.

"Thought I told you it was curfew, Half-Pint," came Logan's gruff voice.

"It's mah fault, Logan, she's keepin' me company," Rogue piped up quickly. Logan's eyes adverted to notice Rogue, and slightly softened.

"Stripes, when'd you get up?" he changed the subject.

"A couple hours ago," she replied softly, still unnerved by how long she slept. Logan looked back at Kitty, who had already placed the jelly and bread on the table, and was now half phased through a pantry. She soon emerged victorious, peanut butter in hand. She set to work, spreading the jelly onto the bread lavishly. Logan turned his attention back to Rogue.

"Uh, Stripes," he started, grabbing her attention. "Good job on earlier." Rogue scoffed.

"Which part? Losin' control and givin' mahself a concussion or being passed out all day and missin' school?" she remarked sarcastically, still staring at the peanut butter. It… looked weird to her, foreign almost. Not a good vague feeling. Alarm bells rang as she watched Kitty.

"Neither," Logan smirked. "For being able to last the longest out of everyone and still manage to be closest to grabbing the flag."

"Oh," came her solemn reply. She watched Kitty intently for some reason, as if the peanut butter was fascinating. Something felt off as Kitty reached into the jar with a knife. The Jiffy was about to be layered on the bread when something finally clicked in her head.

"Kit, wait!" she startled her. "Ah'm allergic to peanut butter." This received strange looks from the other occupants.

"Since when?" Logan asked. Creases appeared on Rogue's forehead, as if she was trying to remember. A blank came to her mind.

"Rogue, you're not allergic to peanut butter," Kitty reminded her quietly. Rogue pondered her own memories.

No, she wasn't allergic to peanut butter, or anything else for that matter. Where had that come from?

"Never… never mind about that," she slowly replied, still trying to get a grip on her head. After that, all was quiet.

"When yer done, straight to bed," Logan said finally, something on his mind. He turned and left wordlessly.

Kitty finally finished up the sandwich and handed it to Rogue.

"Eat," she ordered again. "All of it." Rogue looked at Kitty.

"Thanks, Kit," she replied, taking a bight, finally eating something. Kitty watched her intently.

"You, like, really need to eat more," she started.

"Ah'm just not hungry anymore," Rogue replied, quickly finishing the sandwich. She wiped off her hands and sat on the stool. A surreal blur encased her eyes, like she was watching her life flash by slowly. It felt deafened, the sounds of Kitty's voice muted. She was trapped in her own dream world. And the feeling came.

It started with her heart and swelled outward. It spread throughout her back; the warm feeling massaged her shoulders and tingled in her arms. The set look of concentration on her face loosened and was replaced with a serene look. Her pursed lips formed into an almost smile. Her often narrowed eyes softened to a peaceful calm. And that she felt. Calm, safe, and most of all, content. It was a seldom time; there were no voices, just the soft, constant murmur of her own pulsing heartbeat. The feeling diminished, sending her back into the world of chaos she existed. She tuned back in and realized Kitty was starring at her, almost shaking her.

"Um, welcome back? Like, what happened? You left me there! You got all quiet and kind of peaceful. Is everything okay?" Kitty insistently asked.

"Ah, yea, Ah'm okay," Rogue replied, hugging herself. "Its just… a weird feeling came over meh…"

"Like, what kind of feeling?"

"It… was a warm kind of feelin'. It… was all over my body," she half-smiled. She watched Kitty's face etch with worry.

"Maybe you should go talk to the professor about this," Kitty advised.

"No," Rogue quickly said, then reassured her. "It wasn't a bad feelin'. It kinda… felt nice- Ah mean, it felt all warm and calm. It made me feel all safe an'…" Rogue stopped. She felt warmth creep onto her cheeks. She could feel Kitty's eyes lock on and silently beg for more with puppy dog eyes.

"And!" she exclaimed.

"And ah dunno… it kinda felt lahke when a guy holds ya…y'know that protected feelin… not lahke Ah would know anythang about it," She hastily finished, watching Kitty's eyes widen. She mentally smacked herself for revealing so much information.

"You know what that feeling was right?"

Insert blank stare.

"Someone was just thinking of you! And not just in a friendly way. Oh my Gad! Who's thinking about you?"

She shrugged as the blush deepened. If only…if only. Dead silence filled the room.

"It was Gambit , wasn't it?"

"Its probly nothin', Kit, just a…hot flash or somethin'," Rogue replied quickly. Kitty returned a knowing look.

"Yea, uh-huh, sure. A hot flash. Good one. Now c'mon. Mr. Logan's gonna kill us for being out totally late."

They both walked the abandoned halls to their rooms. Rogue continued to think of the feeling. The scent of Gambit hadn't come, so maybe it wasn't him. But still. Whenever he had touched her in Louisiana, he gave her the same feeling. Perhaps Kitty was on to something…Rogue's lips lifted a bit at the corners.

'Ah wonder what he's doin' right now…'

Moonlight bounced off of the untouched road. No one came, no one went. It was a quiet, ominous night in the back roads going north. Its paved roads were sparsely ever touched with the common passerby at this time of night. Shrubs grew on the side of the road, weeds filling the crack in between. Loneliness filled the silent air, a rustling breeze wafting motionlessly set the eerie night tone. Time stood still in the broken and uncared for highway. Movement was rare; only the half moon that shone brightly in the star sprinkled sky proved the universe still revolving.

Life resurrected as a lone rider revved and pursued the twisted path. He whisked by riding on, not bothering to admire the forbidding scenery beheld before him. He headed up the coast; the water that reflected the light was visible on his left side every so often through the thicket of trees.

You could probably call him a runaway. He was running. Running away from his memories, his family, and probably most important of all, his past. He knew eventually all of it would catch up to him again, to haunt him again, to beckon his return again. It was inevitable. His past would always find him; it would rear its ugly head when things were beginning to change. He stopped to wonder if it would follow him into his new life.

He stopped the bike in a graveled grove overlooking the sea. A cigarette found hits way to his mouth. Just a pinch of his fingers and a tad of concentration did the trick. He didn't need a lighter, he was his own. The chill breeze blew his perfect auburn hair into small silken tufts that fell gorgeously over his eyes. The sea before him glistened softly as he leaned back on his bike.

Something was calling him. That something tugged at his heart, killed him with anxiety and angst. It wasn't his. He didn't know what, or whose it was. But whatever it was lead him up north. The small town called Bayville plagued his thoughts and beckoned his return, his escape from his family.

He honestly didn't know what he was doing. Magneto was no longer an Acolyte leader, meaning he was no longer employed as an Acolyte. He could do his own freelance work, using his thieving skills to make a life. A stolen life, of course, but a life after all. He knew his friends had gone to the X-Men. Colossus and Pyro were the only others he had kept in contact with, and they had reported back to him that leading the X-Men life was good. Well, that's what Colossus had told him. Pyro was just like his element- a fire. He needed flexibility. In other words- he couldn't stand the rules.

And now with that, he was debating. Debating on joining his friends and fighting the good fight. Something called to him. He hoped he could find it there. If not, he was on a search for nothing. He had nothing to gain, nothing to lose.

When did he start feeling like this? He was satisfied wherever he was- usually. But after he had rescued his father, something felt wrong. Like he was missing something in his life. He had examined this thought for hours and hours on end. It wasn't after he rescued his father, it was after he saw the girl leave with a family. A family he wanted part of. A girl he wanted part of. He thought of her time and time again and each time smiled. He just didn't know.

With a sigh, he snubbed out his cigarette bud and took one last look at the sea. At that, he turned around, and got on helmet on. He straddled his bike, turned it on, and revved away.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Oh meh effing gad! I updated on time! W00t! I rock meh socks! Hear meh RAWR. Yea…Short chapter, I know. This was originally the rest of the 4th chapter, but it would have been uber long. Seriously, it would have been 14 friken pages long. So I had to cut it. For your sake and mine. And the fact that it was a filler chapter. 'Twas short and it introduced our favorite Cajun. I hope everyone out there got it was Gambit. Cuz he's hawt like that.

So yea, this is the last chapter I had prewritten from maybe a year ago. So I'm going to work my ass off trying to get the rest of it done. I've worked on the next chapter in my Gov't and Econ classes, cuz they're so boring, but I take a long time for writing, so expect the updates to be a bit slower.

So now that my ramble is done, for now, please please oh mah gad please take the time to review. Those lil review alerts in my email are the few things that make me happy now- so make me damn happy and review! Por favor?

Gracias for all the reviews from last chapter! I lurve them!

Toodles to your Noodles!

MidniteAngelGoth

w00t!


	6. Chapter 6: Epitome

**Summary:** It's after Apocalypse and everything is peachy for everyone on the X-Men team. Everyone that is, except the one known as Rogue. Slowly, the psyches in her mind are taking over her life and her mind, making her sink into a deep, dark depression. Will the Rogue topple over the edge, or can a certain Remy LeBeau keep her sane? It's all about ROMY, baby! I will have hints of other couples, but FYI, it's definitely a ROMY. Rated for occasional profanity, cutting, depression, suicidal-ness, and lots of dark thoughts.

**Disclaimer:** If anything sounds remotely familiar, I do not own it. I do not own X-Men: Evolution or any of its affiliates. If I did, do you think I'd still be living in a crap-pile-of-a-town? I would be off in some happy place, like New York, London, Tokyo… 'Nuff said…

On With the Show!

**Tormented Sanity**

Chapter 6: Epitome

Her emerald eyes fluttered open, expectant to see mounds upon mounds of dead bodies suffocating her. The blood of thousands of people dripping all over, washing her with their regrets and sorrow… washing her with the hatred and malice of the killers taunting her with a free pass towards the final stage…the smell of decay and hatred consuming her nostrils… the sounds of hopeless, merciless, thousands of gunshots… the moans of pitiful pain in their dying dance… everything she could feel, even through the thin veil that kept her from tumbling headfirst in a pit of heartless nightmare. Everything was still evident, the scents, the sounds, the contact on her scantily clad body. Everything felt real in this nightmare. Maybe because it was- this, after all, wasn't just horrors her mind created to suppress feelings as obvious as the common mind frame's- it was a memory that was over 50 years old.

As her eyes adjusted to the light and the remnants of her room, she could feel herself being sucked back into the void of lurid possibilities. A flash would obscure her vision, placing herself into a different realm.

/ …atop a dirt mound, a line of other scantily clad sticks next to her, across from her a line of well dressed men, pistols in their pockets, hearts ground into the dirt…the sky beckoned a red day of smoke and fog, of malicious racism and death…the people, one by one, fell back as soon as they heard the gunshot…not falling back, but screaming in agony as the gun was aimed to their head, their chest, their limbs, being propelled by the force rammed into their undernourished corpses…one by one each body fell, accompanied by a scream and a laugh… the line was getting shorter… each scream was getting louder, closer to her ear…/

Rogue moaned. The dreamed flashed quickly in front of her eyes, yet she could still vividly describe the story if asked. It wouldn't be the first time Rogue had been sucked into Magneto's memory. She only hoped it wouldn't get to the regular gruesome part… it was the most nauseating. Of course, nobody gets what they really wish for.

/ …each gunshot got longer, each scream got closer, each body was flung farther. The angle of the gun was getting closer and closer to a right angle to her… she could see everything. Her knees were weak…she could see her vision get stronger, her will to live with it. The gun itself faced its barrel at her… She narrowed her eyes in defiance as she hated her pre-determined killer… her heart filled with overwhelming hatred and anger… she felt herself give a mental push to her killer, a last fleeting thought before she made a date with death. As an answer to the question, the gun backfired, and her "killer" was pushed the opposite way. As if on cue, another killer in the exact same uniform grabbed the exact same gun and sniped. She could almost see clearly as the bullet aimed at her heart sloppily grasped her shoulder and sent her flying back…/

Rogue whimpered in pain. Pain blew up in her body, especially in her shoulder region. She could feel every sense as her body flew into shock, but could feel her head spinning and her stomach begin to rebel.

/…it felt wrong to have a bullet lodged in her skin. It was misplaced, and an obsession in her head told her it had to get out, at all costs. She could feel her mind will to send it out and a few seconds later, the bulge was relived and she could feel a normal smoothness over her skin, despite the blood pouring out. Hands were clawing at her pulling her down with the reeking decay of human skin. She could feel the dirty hands pull her down, in attempt for others to get out of the cesspool of death and be considered one of the living, to be considered useful to the death guards in return for their life. A body rolled on top of her… squeezing the insufficient air out of her sunken in lungs… the blood rolled over her body, on her face, in her mouth, choking her and causing her to cough up blood. She attempted to scream for help, her tongue bewitched into a foreign tongue…someone was lying full length on top of her, covering her face. She was unable to breathe, through her mouth or through her nose. Sweat beaded on her brow, ran down her spine. This was the end, she thought, the end of the road. A silent death, suffocation…/

Rogue stumbled quickly out her bed, swaying and groping for air, stumbled into the nearest bathroom and unceremoniously threw herself by the toilet. She retched into the immaculately white toilet, ridding herself of the nausea. It wasn't her first time reliving Magnet-heads dream, and it also wasn't her first time being nauseated by it. Her chest heaved, sucked in and out. The veins near her ears pounded and throbbed with each push of her intestines. Tears, whether be from crying, or merely eyes watering, gathered in the corners of her eyes and fell silently down her cheek, down her chin, down the toilet. One last desperate heave of stomach acid and the remnants of her PB&J sandwich allowed Rogue to lift her head miserably, eyes bloodshot and stomach raw. She feebly lifted herself up and washed out her bile tasting mouth. Stumbling a bit, she shuffled to her bed and collapsed. She lay still, and then turned her head to meet the clock.

5:45 A.M.

Rogue gave a pitiful sound meshed between a groan and a sob and cursed loudly. She jumped out of bed and tore around her room. It was the second time in a row she was late. Logan would not be so forgiving. Not today anyways.

It was going to be a long day. A long painful day.

* * *

Only two words could describe Rogue at the moment.

It hurt.

It was clearly the only and less energy consuming way to explain the morning's DR session. Words were not needed, necessarily, either. All emotions barring towards her hour session of torture was purely evident in her stance, her walk, her mumbles, her eyes. Words could not clearly express how much Rogue regretted not waking up earlier. Everyone else regretted it too. They were all forced to wait, impatiently albeit, though none as impatient as Logan. It was a thought that Rogue's tardiness solely purchased them a few level in their session. It was brutal. No matter though, the drill was offensive- all powers were a-go, all of the useful, defensive powers, that is. Rogue had to rely on hand-to-hand combat, for obviously her powers didn't allow her advantage in this type. Even Kitty's and Kurt's powers helped them. Kitty was able to short circuit the robots, if any and Kurt was able to port with a given thing and demolish it himself, or port it to someone who could demolish it. Of course, Rogue knew the possible answer to her battle problem: absorbing. But seeing how its side-effects were currently giving her nightmares and turning her bulimic, she didn't want to risk it.

As Rogue walked out of the Danger Room, she wasn't able to meet her trainer square in the eyes. Shame filled her pale and sunken in cheeks. She had done poorly and even she knew it. Offensive drills weren't her cup of tea, but today was ridiculous shit. Her aim was sloppy, and her strength was poor. It was hard to land a hit when she was fighting back nausea and an ever growing headache. Her fight, in her own self-criticizing opinion, was the epitome of suck.

As result of being the last tortured one out of the Danger Room, the bathroom already had a long line behind it. She groaned and went resignedly to her room, immediately flopping on the bed. She awoke minutes later, just as Kitty walked into the room, fully dressed and a wide-eyed expression clearly marked on her face.

"Oh jeez, Rogue, aren't you ready yet?"

Rogue lifted her head and gave a withering look. "Of course Ah am, Ah've always wanted ta go ta school in mah trainin' uniform." Kitty rolled her eyes at the sarcasm.

"Well, like, Scott leaves in a half-hour!" Kitty exclaimed. Rogue lifted her head and looked at her.

"Are you fuckin' serious? Aw shit!" Rogue grabbed some nearby clothes, her vanity pack and ran out of the door. As she approached the bathroom, only to find that it was locked, she heard humming in its occupation and immediately knew who it was. She rolled her eyes and banged on the door. "Open up, Grey, some people are gonna be late cuz ya brushin' ya damn hair!"

"Hold ON!" Jean yelled back. After about a moment's time, Jean opened the door, and her majesty came out, in all her perfect majestic glory. She had a frown and an annoyed look.

"You know, Rogue-" she began to lecture. Rogue gave her no time and shoved her aside.

"Save it for someone who cares, Grey," Rogue declared sharply, rushing into the bathroom and locking the door in a speed even Quicksilver would have been impressed by. Rogue quickly turned on the shower, and shoved off her clothes. Jumping into the shower, she shrieked in surprise at the coldness she was left from the possible twenty other people who had taken a shower before her. In her haste, she became… reckless. She almost tripped on her bar of soap, then she had gotten that soap in her eyes and because of that, she smacked her head and hands into various things around the shower. And yet her pain knew no end.

"Aw man, aw man, aw man…" she chanted over and over again, stepping out of the shower. She didn't remember finally finishing her wash or putting on clothes. She did remember slowing down long enough to spite her in the mirror and put on her layer of make-up. The last thing she needed was to look like a clown. Quickly stopping by her room, she picked up her backpack and high-tailed it out.

She ran outside, in front of the mansion's entrance and found the cars gone. The kids gone. Her ride gone. Instead, she saw the mansion's gate open and two cars following Scott's convertible out of the mansion grounds.

"Oh fuck."

* * *

By the time Rogue reached her locker, it was almost second period. She had been standing outside of her locker for about five minutes, trying to open her defective lock. The end of first period bell rang. Rogue tried her combo another time, still nothing. Kids came streaming out. A moment later, she was greeted by the resident asshole. A very, very angry principal.

"Rogue," he began in his fatherly tone, "where were you? Did you ditch?"

"No, Ah didn't," Rogue replied icily. Her locker popped open, after a tenth twirl. Madly she began transferring her books into her backpack. She could feel the small extent of the head's "evil glare" from the corner of her eye.

"Well, Rogue, I'm waiting," he added exasperated.

"Well what! Ah had to walk to school!" Rogue slammed her locker shut and gave him a look.

"Rogue-" he began, but Rogue cut him off.

"Save it. Ah'm gonna be late for class." Rogue walked off, not giving him a second glance. 'An' to think he's not fired yet,' she recollected, disgusted with the thought. Rogue walked into the classroom and took her seat. She reached into her backpack, only to realize she had left all of her homework in her binder.

In the Mansion.

In her room.

On the floor.

She was screwed.

She signed heavily. It was going to be a very, very long, horrible day.

* * *

And she was right. The rest of the school day got worse. On top of forgetting her homework, the teachers loaded her with more; including her all-time favorite thing to do- write essays. Lots and lots of essays. She couldn't open her locker, and because of that, was late to nearly every class, involving one or two detentions from the mutants-haters. She forgot her lunch money and obviously didn't have enough time to make a lunch, so therefore spent her entire lunch period in solitude. Not even Kitty came to talk to her. Instead, she could overhear random people saying something about her being in a bad mood. And to put the icing on the cake, the senior Jean-clones' perfect response was, "Oh, but isn't she always in a bad mood?" Insert high pitched giggle here. After that, she brought out her headphones and turned them up as loud as possible. She tuned everyone out until the end of lunch.

She couldn't help but feel the hurt more as nobody bothered to talk to her. None of her 'friends', nobody bothered to ask, to wonder what was wrong. She felt… left out as she watched her group laugh at something. She tried not to look over, but who could deny the feelings of unbelonging? Her head hurt and she was dizzy. Supposed anorexia and bulimia was starting to have its toll on her. The voices wouldn't shut up. She couldn't concentrate at anything, giving her something to be yelled at about. All day was a trial. A trial of depression, of angst, of sickness; she couldn't shake it. The anxiety welded to the bottom of her heart sunk her mind into the deepest of fogs. She couldn't find her way through the muddle- it was like a high that was making her anything but feeling better. And right now, she was looking for anything to make her feel better.

The end of the school day couldn't have come sooner. And yet, as good as that was, she still couldn't get her locker open. "Gawd Damnit!" she cursed and banged her head on the locker. She felt a tap as she banged her head a second time.

"Need help?" a voice asked. Rogue scowled and turned to meet the silver-haired boy.

"Why would Ah need your help?" she retorted.

"Chill, Rogue. Can't your Brotherhood friends help you out once in a while?" Lance stepped out from the corner, coming to Pietro's rescue. Follow him was Fred and Todd.

"And why would y'all wanna help meh? If ya need info bout the X-men, I aint gonna spill."

"Well, It jus looks like you had a rough day, yo," Todd leaned on a nearby locker and pretended to clean his nails. Rogue narrowed her eyes.

"How did ya'll know Ah was havin' a bad day? What are ya, mah personal stalkers?"

"Well, in our defense, it's hard not to notice, especially when you shoved that geek into the locker." Rogue smirked. "Now will you accept our help or not?"

"Sure, why not?" She allowed Pietro to try the lock. He spun it too fast for the human eye and smugly grinned when it clicked open. His grin grew when he saw Rogue's expression drop.

"Ah, well… thanks, ah guess…" Rogue replied. She felt Lance's hand on her shoulder and felt herself slightly jump.

"Any time," he responded.

Rogue shoved her books into her backpack and turned around. The boys walked along side her. "So, enlighten meh, why did ya'll decide to help lil o' meh?"

"That's what _friends_ do, right? We'd never leave you behind," Avalance stressed. They walked to the door leading to the student parking lot. Rogue opened the door.

"We wouldn't, but we can't say much about your little x-geek friends," Blob commented when he saw Rogue's angry face. Scott's convertible had left again.

"Gawd Damnit!" She shouted when she realized she was left again.

"Hmm, seems to be the word-of-the-day," Pietro crooned. Rogue quickly fake punched Pietro, smirking when he jumped back and flinched.

"Ah swear, when Ah get mah hands on the fuckin' Boy Scout…" Rogue clenched her fists tightly.

"You and me both…" Lance murmured.

Rogue sighed and began to walk away from the four boys, completely dreading the long walk back to the Mansion. "See ya'll. Thanks for ya help," she called back.

"Oh, come on Rogue, you know we'll give you a ride." Rogue stopped and smirked.

"Ah know, Ah jus' wanted ta see how long it would take ya ta ask."

Rogue walked over to them, and stole the front as she got to Lance's jeep.

"Hey, that's mine!" Pietro buzzed. Rogue gave him a look.

"Pietro, ya can get to the house faster if you ran. Shut up." Pietro pouted.

The car ride home wasn't too short. She found herself actually talking and enjoying the company. She forgot for a while, who she was. An X-Man. Former Brotherhood Girl. She remember talking like this to them when she was in their league. Just to forget and easily talk about something. To Lance, she talked guitars and music. With Fred, it was solely about food. She and Pietro would share common words of insults to throw at Todd. She was back with family. She didn't have this car ride banter with the X-Men, the sense of belonging with them. She felt… looked out for, possibly cared for like a real family. Oh, sure, being an X-Man and all those wonderful good guy perks were there, but there was always falseness to it.

They reached the Mansion gates and stopped. Rogue hopped out and looked at her friends. "Thanks for the help an' the ride."

"No prob," Lance spoke. "You know who to call if the X-Geeks get in your way." Rogue smiled at that as they sped off.

"Right. Okay, guys." She punched in the access code and walked into the grounds. She could see Scott leaning against his car, arms folded and glare aimed straight towards her. Giving an equal glare back, she headed into the house, not caring what was Scott's anal problem today.

He followed her into the house, and she could feel his eyes follow her every move. She made it halfway up the stairs, and then was stopped at his accusing voice.

"Rogue, what were you doing with _them_?" He walked up behind her. She rolled her eyes.

"Oh, Ah'm sorry, do you mean my friends?" she sweetly asked, vemon sunk in between every space. She smirked.

"You know you shouldn't hang out with them! Those little delinquents are a bad influence!" He exploded. Rogue narrowed her eyes dangerously as that comment got her fired up. There was a small audience forming around the lower level's entrances.

"You've got your friends an' Ah've got mine, Summers," she hissed, ramming a finger into his chest. "You've got no right on lecturing meh on who Ah can an' can't hang out wit', got it?"

"So were you with them all day? We got a call from the principal, saying you weren't there first period. Did you ditch with them?"

"Do you honestly think Ah'd do that? What, jus' cuz Ah was hypnotized by fuckin' Mesmero, do you think Ah'm easily manipulated? What's your fuckin' problem, Summers? Don't trust meh anymore?" she sneered.

With that, she whipped around and glared at all of her bystanders. Everyone immediately cleared a path for the pissed Goth. Whoever didn't, she calmly screamed at them to move it. She pressed on, without caring what anyone thought of her. She entered her room and slammed the door without trying to. She collapsed on her bead and buried her head into the pillow. She screamed. Screaming only relives so much though.

It didn't matter that she helped shove Apocalypse's ass back into the dung hole he came from. All that mattered that she had a lapse in shields, all because of Mesmero, and had attacked every known mutant to her. She saw the fear in everyone's eyes when they realized it was her who drained them one night. She saw the fear over and over, in training, during dinners, during missions. Just walking alone gave the Recruits chance to wonder what was going on in her head, if she would fake and steal their souls. Calming herself, she got her stuff, and stormed back downstairs. She saw as they quickly averted their eyes once they met hers. Anyone that met her eyes along the way immediately looked away. Rogue was like an animal to them- if you looked her straight in the eye and show fear, odds are your head would be torn off. She quickly made her way to the library and sat down at a table.

She slammed her CD player along with her homework. She glanced at what she needed to do and pulled out Dracula. The story was getting good, it was getting late and her CD player ceased to make a sensible sound with all its skipping. She hit it once. And twice. By then, the battery had crapped out too.

"Gawd fucking DAMNIT!" She cursed.

"Stripes, dinner," Logan's voice came.

"Shit! Jeez Logan!" she replied back, still recovering from shock. Logan eyed Rogue for a minute.

"You know how the Prof feels about language," he told her.

"Yeah, Ah know. Sorry." She didn't meet his eyes.

"Bad day?"

She scoffed.

"You have no idea," the southern girl drawled. "Ah'll be there in a minute."

"Don't be late."

She gave one last withering look towards her dead CD player and drudged towards the dining hall.

It wasn't that she truly dreaded being at the Mansion, it was just the feeling of not belonging. She didn't belong with the jostling and playful recruits, or the serious college going students. She wasn't social, she wasn't happy, she wasn't anything. She was insecure, not able to communicate with them, with anyone, and she couldn't help it.

Dinner went by fairly quickly. A minor food fight was rewarded with a DR session. And pick up duty. The food was wonderful, yet unappetizing at the same time. If anything, Rogue ate five whole bites and picked at her food after. She wasn't hungry. As always. It only took 10 minutes to figure this out. She pushed away her plate and left the table wordlessly, averting her eyes from the wondering eyes of those close to her. Rogue was the last person at the table, yet the first to leave.

She walked into the library again, greeted by silence. Perfect for her mood, she supposed. She sat on the couch and numbly stared in front of her. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Sudden tiredness overcame her. She sighed, yet stopped abruptly by a small noise. It was less than audible at first, but it grew louder as it grew closer. Then she heard a giggle.

The door knob turned and the door slowly opened. There was another giggle and a sound- more like a moan- of happiness. Rogue narrowed her eyes in anger when fake-red hair came into view. After a second, she could see the attached head, and also the attached Scott. There they were, full lip-to-lip suction, permanently attached to each others tonsils. Rogue stared enviously angered at the couple. Scott's hands were on Jean's back, inching lower and lower as he caressed her. Jean's hands were roaming up his arm, then languidly would touch his face and run her hands through his hair. Every few seconds, Jean would back away, smile at Scott and giggle, as if she was doing something so obscene and naughty. They slowly backed up into the room and fell onto a nearby couch.

Rogue felt her eyes burn and her heart clench. She was envious; after all, wouldn't you be if you were deprived of touch? They could touch skin on skin. Jean could kiss Scott with passion and not have him comatose. And she didn't even realize it, didn't relish it, and didn't savor it. And that's what made Rogue mad. The sole thing killing Rogue, Jean was flaunting it everywhere, undisguised or censored. She could feel her anger rising, rising as with jealousy, as with envy, as with hatred.

"Hey fucking lovebirds! Do you mind!" she shouted, unable to keep the rage from showing in her voice. She stood up, book bag in hand, hands on her hip. Jean's head came first out of lip-lock and gave a questionable once around the room, finally stopping at the irritated Rogue. Scott's face finally met hers and his mouth dropped in a surprised "O."

"Rogue, I-" he stammered.

"Why don't ya'll have some fuckin' decency and get an actual room instead of flauntin' it where nobody wants it?" she accused.

"Rogue- we didn't know- we thought," he started again.

" 'Parently not! Why couldn't you get your lil' girlfriend to scan the area, since she's so good at doing that anyways?" she shot back.

"Hey! Just because I have powers I can use, doesn't mean I flaunt it around!" Jean defended herself.

"Of course, Red, Ya only use it when it's convenient to ya!" she retorted.

"Look Rogue, get over it! There are people who _can_ touch and we're not about to censor it just for little you! Your "pity me" act only works for so long!" Jean yelled, her face narrowed. Rogue's eyes became deadly.

"Ya have absolutely no right ta say that ta meh. Don't even assume about meh if you don't know anything about meh or mah powers. So fuck you, Grey. Fuckin' rot in hell," she replied icily back.

She gave them a glare to kill, and then proceeded to walk out the library, slamming the door on the way. Her mind was spinning. A migraine was forming, and the voices were getting louder She walked towards the front of the mansion, calmly. As she made it out towards the mansion's stairwell, she dropped the backpack carelessly, and ran out the door.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** OMGWTFBBQ! Yea, I know. So long to friken update. I'm so sorry. Many, many personal problems, I couldn't get the will to write, major writer's cramp. Actually, I have the next chapter written, not typed. Don't maim me, but I've had it done for about two months or so. And behold, NEXT chapter is the possible ROMY we all know and love. That's right folks; Remy makes his grand appearance to our loveable Goth. AND THE FUNNESS THAT WILL ENSUE! It will devour you like hot bologna. Eat it, you know you want to.

And did you sense the foreshadowing? I did! Who can spot it first! Hint: it's at the end of a paragraph! Spot it now!

And don't you love the line "epitome of suck." I love it. It's truly grand. So I'll make this brief, cuz my boyfriend's on the phone and I feel like I'm neglecting him. ( Any questions, comments, reviews, ANYTHING ! Please, please, please review. It would make me happy, cuz life in general seems to… make things … not happy? I dunno. It's late.

Thanks for all of my last chapter reviews! I love each and every one of yous!

I EXPECT REVIEWS PEOPLE! LOTS N LOTS! Or else my crack-bunny and my muffin will come after you. And they don't even know you.

Yes, they're real people. But any who, please review? I give M&M kudo bars !

w00t and kudos to YOUS!

Toodles to your Ramen Noodles!

MidniteAngelGoth


	7. Chapter 7: Sobriety

**Summary:** It's after Apocalypse and everything is peachy for everyone on the X-Men team. Everyone that is, except the one known as Rogue. Slowly, the psyches in her mind are taking over her life and her mind, making her sink into a deep, dark depression. Will the Rogue topple over the edge, or can a certain Remy LeBeau keep her sane? It's all about ROMY, baby! I will have hints of other couples, but FYI, it's definitely a ROMY. Rated for occasional profanity, cutting, depression, suicidal-ness, and lots of dark thoughts.

**Disclaimer:** If anything sounds remotely familiar, I do not own it. I do not own X-Men: Evolution or any of its affiliates. If I did, do you think I'd still be living in a crap-pile-of-a-town? I would be off in some happy place, like New York, London,… or TokyoDisney… 'Nuff said…

On With the Show!

**Tormented Sanity**

Chapter 7: Sobriety

She refused to be seen crying. Maybe it was pride- that once her tears were revealed the Goth mask shattered and she was just a normal, emotional girl – a normal, emotional girl who cried. She couldn't afford to lose anything that would hide her from the world. It was her Bell Jar that kept her from being complete exposed into the contamination. That's why she averted her eyes from the inhabitants in her calm dash out of the Mansion. She kept her head down and bit her lip to quell the internal pain. As soon as she stepped off the Mansion's front porch her body was struck in the frigidness, she compelled herself to move forward. She shivered as she ran towards the exit, smacked the gate code in, and ran off the Xavier property. She felt her side cramp and legs shake, about to give out after a straight mile run. She slowed to a staggered walk.

It was night and she was cold. She shivered as she made it slowly into Bayville's outer limits. She mentally smacked herself for wearing her normal fishnets and skirt. In all honestly, she was just walking to calm the lump in her throat. She hadn't informed anyone of her absence or designated a place to actually go. She could feel unease as she walked further and further into Bayville. It was hard to distinguish from anxiety the eyes of a stalker pasted onto her vulnerable form. In just contemplating the latter, she thought, 'Well, not like it matters anyways, nobody can rape me or anythang without goin' inta a coma.' The thought was bitter and filled her with more regret.

She slowly made her way from the winding roads of the outskirts into the actual town. She walked around listlessly. Her face bore no expression, her eyes no emotion. Her walk lacked any energy- her boots were almost being dragged onto the floor. As dangerous as it was, she paid no attention to the surroundings, only to the small voice inside her head, the only one that was her own.

She thought about Jean. The Rogue was extremely jealous of her. Jean had love, a chance to be loved. The girl she hated so bad had everything she could want: intelligence, love. One characteristic stood out considerably: her ability to be liked. She was the girl all the others went to for comfort. Rogue remembered one day when she had her chance of comforting, yet was too wrung into her own doubt to help. Kitty, having an on/off relationship with Lance, broke down one day after talking to him. She clung to Rogue for support, yet Rogue stood seemingly unaffected. In reality, she was torn up inside, she just didn't know how to comfort. In her fear of hurting the girl who had helped her so much, she had grabbed Jean, letting her do her job. She was worried, scared that Kitty would be worse off with her sarcastic, unbelievable advice. Her fear prevented her from connecting with another person. She hated herself for that.

After deep contemplation, she had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. It was after eleven at night. Shops were closed, people were scarce, and it was hauntingly dark. Not anywhere safe for a distinguishable mutant like Rogue. She got wary and couldn't help but feel alone in the middle of a city. She was standing out, waiting to be pegged. She looked at the street around her, fear filling her heart, anxiety muddling her mind.

The world around her became a different dimension. She couldn't remember where she was, who she was. The voices in her head became sharper, painful even. Their individual moaning, screams, taunting, everything stood out yet was so blended. She felt trapped in her self-made nightmare of existence. Everything around her felt so familiar, yet so forgettable, as if one blink and she'd disappear. Her breathing became staggered and she felt dizzy. Her body became slowly numbed and she didn't realize she had backed into an alley.

Her back hit the wall. She slid down and curled up on the ground in a fetal position. Her voices were taunting her, jibing her with its degrading remarks and sarcastic replies.

/ …just so worthless…/

/… can't even comfort a friend…/

/…why bother trying anymore?.../

/…just kill yourself…/

/…can't even touch, much less be of any use…/

/…hardly trustworthy anymore…/

/… killer that needs to be sent to an asylum…/

Her heart clenched as they said these things. She knew they were true. She was hardly worth anything. If she was, maybe betrayals wouldn't have happened so often to her. She would have more friends if anything, if she was useful, if she was of comfort, if she acted like a real friend at all. None of her friends even trusted her, not after all of the Mesmero and Apocalypse crap that happened.

'Ah can't even connect with a person, much less become a friend. Ah'm just so …worthless, not even worth the time of day. The Prof can't help me, nobody can't help me. Ah'm all alone. What the hell is mah life when Ah'm so alone? Ah shouldn't even bother being here, just not bother goin' home…Ah don't have a home, Ah don't have a family… Ah have nowhere ta go…maybeh it would be so much better… if Ah died…'

Anxiety grasped her mind, her heart, her whole being. She let loose a heart wrenching sob and felt as something inside her exploded. Tears streamed down her face, an unstoppable river of salt and water. Repetition of her self-critique played itself over an over in her head, all of her beating lashing so deep into her own psyche, never to be healed again. Her sobs racked her chest; she could hardly breathe in her outbreak. She hid her face in the shadows and buried her tear-ridden face in the crook of her arm. She crouched as silently as she could, as to not bring attention to herself. Her sobs were muffled and sniffs were slowly becoming farther and farther between. It took time for her breathing to decrease to normal and a few heavy inhalations to calm her racking chest. Her sobs were quelled into silent tears streaming down her face.

"Aw, _chere_, why y' cryin'?" came a haunting voice through the silence.

"Leave meh alone," came the harsh reply back. She didn't look up and didn't care to. She wasn't sure if the voice was in her head or in actuality. She heard footsteps but didn't look up. Instead, she felt herself squirm away and hide deeper into herself and shadows. She ripped herself out of the tornado inside her head and opened her tear glossed eyes. The footsteps weren't in her head as she had thought and her "visitor" was real. He foolishly made the mistake of coming to close for her comfort. By instinct, she knew he had knelt down beside her to try and see her face.

"Ah said leave meh alone," came her aggravated command.

"Wellit isn't safe t' b' in an alley at night. Let's take y' back home, _hein?_" The voice sounded familiar and she couldn't place it. Voice recognition wasn't her top priority, as the male beside her gave her what it seemingly felt like an invitation to go back to his place. The voice angered her with his persistency. So she did the first thing that came to her mind. She brought up her hands quickly and gave the man a quick, lethal shove. The man tried to stand up to avoid the fall. In the midst of his attempt, Rogue took his legs out in front of him. The man hit the ground and a groan escaped his mouth. Rogue quickly straddled his figure and took his hands to lock them over his head.

"Ah don't lahke bein' pushed in any direction, got it?" She hissed. The man beneath her chuckled.

"Just like old times, _non?_ Wasn't really expectin' but really, Rogue, is dis any way to greet an old friend?" The man opened his eyes to reveal red orbs laughing back at her.

Rogue's eyes widened and softened momentarily, a hint of a smiling amazement protruding off her emeralds. Then she realized what she was doing and began to glare, remembering his offenses. She hastily got off him to tower above him with hands on her hips.

"What the fuck are ya doin' here, Gambit," she spoke venomously.

"Remy could ask y' the very same thing," he retorted back. He hoisted himself up to face her. She glared as his eyes playfully challenged her. He took one step towards her as she took one step backwards into the alley. The light from a nearby street lamp cast a glow on her face and reflected off her trails of tears. His eyebrows furrowed, his eyes softened and the smirk died.

"Rogue," he started, taking another step towards her. She took another step back, being pressed up against the wall. "What's wrong?"

She avoided his gaze and lowered her head. "Mind yer own business, Gambit. This doesn't concern ya." He took a slow step towards her and watched her slightly flinch and bury herself deeper into the wall. He purposely lifted a hand slowly so she could see the gloves on his hand. Gently, he placed two middle fingers under her chin and forced her to look up at him. Her eyes were closed as a remaining tear gathered and fell silently from her eye.

"It's Remy, Rogue." He told her.

She yanked her head away from his grasp and pushed him around. She didn't know what came over her, to willingly let him come into her space. "What do you want, Cajun?"

He understood and gave her space. "Well, just happened t' find _ma belle chere_ cryin'. Remy, bein' concerned as always 'bout his _belle chere,_ wanted t' know what was wrong."

Rogue snorted. "Nothin's wrong, nothin's eva' wrong, so why don't ya go find some other gal ta hit on, _hein? _And Ah'm not _ta belle chere._" she mocked him. Rogue made an attempt to move, but the taller, larger man blocked her escape. He sighed, dejected.

"Now _chere_, y' can't go 'bout town wit'out y' x-friends at night, come t' an alley cryin' 'n tell Remy nothin's wrong," he told her, annoyed at her lack of information. She narrowed her eyes.

"Well, watch meh," she replied back. She shoved him out of the way. She thought he would actually let her pass until Remy's hand gripped her wrist. She flinched and froze, waiting the onset of her powers.

"Where y' runnin' 'way t' now, Rogue?" he asked softly.

"Ah'm not runnin' 'way. Ah'm… goin' back t' the institute."

"T' do what?"

Rogue whipped around and glared at him. The sheer quiet imploringness of his New Orleans twang hit her heart and caused another pang of anxiety course through her body. It hurt, the anxiety did. It took all inner strength she could muster to not show her voice breaking. "Ah'm goin' back t' a place Ah'm not wanted an' Ah'm gonna drink 'til Ah pass out," she seethed. Gambits face dropped in slight surprise; he didn't expect her to be this blunt with him. He relived some pain in her eyes and pulled her into him, holding her close.

She was still for a minute, recovering from shock. She felt calm and safe again. The voices had quieted and the anxiety had quelled. / "Like, what kind of feeling?" "It… was a warm kind of feelin'. It… was all over my body."/ Her mind flashed back to the night she had talked with Kitty. Something hit her hard then. She remembered the feeling, the feeling she had been recurrently having. It was the exact same feeling Gambit was doing to her. She a new feeling arose in her, fear.

"No!" She exclaimed and pushed him away again.

"Rogue?" Remy's confused face matched how Rogue felt.

"No! Ya can't do this ta meh! Don't hug meh an' pretend that ya care. Don't play with mah head that way. Ah won't believe ya fuckin' bullshit," she hissed. Before he could respond, she stormed out of the alley, head bent down low and her hands folded over her chest to protect herself from the cold. She started to walk down the street. Her thoughts whirled and her vision darkened.

Gambit stood there, in the dark alley, aghast at what just happened to him. No girl had ever walked away from him, especially when he was holding her close. He watched her silently walk away. He felt his own anxiety mingle with Rogue's. After a second's hesitation, he stopped staring after her and followed.

"Rogue- wait," Gambit called after her, soon catching up to her. "Let it lie," she told him hauntingly full of sorrow. "Rogue," he walked up right behind her and grabbed her wrist again.

She stopped. "I've got to get back to the institute…" she replied in a monotone voice. Gambit watched her wrist phase out of his grasp.

"Why Rogue?" He decided to use his last defense to get her to stay out with him. "Y' prob'ly already in trouble with d' Wolverine f' sneakin out. Are y' really gonna go drink an' get busted too?"

After he made that comment, she turned around to face him, yet with eyes fixated on the ground. Her face lacked creases of life. "It doesn't matter," she said blankly. When she looked up, Gambit was staring intently, yet questioningly into her eyes. He touched her arm and stroked it slightly. She woke up from her trance and looked at him, startled by human contact.

"Yes, it does, Rogue." With that, he grabbed her shoulder and guided her back into the center of the city. They had strayed into the more urban parts of Bayville, where the light didn't touch the ground at nights and the night-time partiers didn't exist.

"Well, _ma chere_, If y' so intent on drinkin', y' shouldn't do it alone. 'S not safe."

"Where you takin' meh, Cajun?" Rogue demanded as they walked into Bayville's main street, which was well known to its inhabitants for bar hopping, raves and shopping.

"_Remy,_" he stressed his name, " be takin' y' out f' some drinks, _chere_, where else?"

She scoffed. "An' how ya gonna do that, _Cajun_?"

"Easy, just watch."

They approached a seemingly random bar and came closer to a bouncer. Rogue kept her eyes occupied, not looking at the bouncer and trying to act nonchalant so she might pass for over twenty one. She honestly expected the bouncer to laugh at them and deny them access. The bouncer was a typical one- heavy set, tall, bald with demonic tattoos filling his arms and piercings in his ears. He looked down on the pair, with his eyes of doubt and suspicion on Rogue mostly. As if to calm Rogue's doubts, Remy put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze to quiet her.

They reached arm's length from the bouncer and Remy smirked at him before using his free hand to lower his sunglasses. "_Bonjour, mon ami,_" he greeted casually. Rogue couldn't tell if Remy was trying to use his empathy on him or if they were acquainted. If either true, the bouncer's eyes widened in awe and tried to sputter something out in his surprise.

"Mr.- Mr. Lebeau, I didn't know-" he began to stutter, yet was cut off as Remy held a finger up. "An' nobody's gonna know Mr. Lebeau was here, _hein?_ Don't need t' b' hunted down on vacation, _non?_" The bouncer nodded his head frantically and never took his eyes off the Cajun.

"Yes, Mr. Lebeau, Please go right in," he quickly added, still nervous and fidgety.

"_Merci_. Oh and, don't call Remy Mr. Lebeau- makes him sound old- like Jean-Luc, _hein?_"

"Yes, s-sir,"

Remy smiled something satisfied and led Rogue into the dimly-lit bar. He pushed up his glasses again and walked with Rogue closely by, his arm still firmly planted around her shoulders. As Rogue looked around she found eyes of bar attendees leering at her. Remy noticed too, and raised his eyebrows threateningly at the stares, as if claiming Rogue his property. They finally claimed a place near the ends of the bar, where sounds were distant and unrecognizable. Remy pulled Rogue's chair out and she immediately took a different chair to sit down in. He smirked and sat down.

"What in the hell was that 'bout back there, Cajun?"

"Jus' a lil' reunion b'tween friends 's all," he shrugged nonchalantly.

"Bullshit!" she exclaimed. "That guy was scared of ya!" Remy unleashed a smile.

"Let's jus' say he knows d' family." Rogue rolled her eyes. "Apparently."

"Now, Rogue," he started as he handed her a menu, " Y' still wan' a drink?"

"Why no, Swamp Rat, jus' so happens Ah'm stupid enough ta goin' inta a bar wit' ya an' not get a drink," came the sarcastic reply.

"Aw, _chere_, y' wound Remy wit' y' sarcasm,"

"Good, then maybe-"she started, and was cut off by the approach of a waitress. She was blonde and busty, with breasts falling out of her low cut skirt.

"Well hi there, what can I do for you tonight?" she smiled mischievously at Remy, as if suggesting something else. Remy returned the smile.

"A glass o' bourbon, _mademoiselle,_" he told her huskily.

"Sure thing there," she giggled and jotted down something on her notepad. She looked towards Rogue, and then did a double-take, looking shocked, surprised, and scared.

"Hey! Aren't you that-" she cut off as a blank stare came over her face. Rogue looked alarmed. She knew what the waitress was going to ask. 'Aren't you that mutie that lives at that mutie school?' Rogue looked at Remy, and even with his sunglasses on, she could instantly tell he was concentrating on his empathy. A second longer and the waitress's face relaxed a bit, still looking confused.

"Alright, what can I get you?" the waitress asked primly. Rogue was angered by her rudeness.

"Ah'll take ya absinthe, with a shot a vodka," she replied icily. The waitress' eyes widened, something short of horrified by the intensity of the alcohol she ordered.

"Okay," she pronounced slowly, as if in taking the daredevil of an order. "I'll be right out with them…"

Once the waitress was out of earshot, Remy refocused his eyes on Rogue.

"An, what was dat 'bout?" the Cajun asked incredulously.

"What was what 'bout?" she raised her eyebrows.

"Y' seem awfully sure 'bout y' alcohol," he acknowledged.

"Yeah, well what 'bout ya? What the hell did ya do with her?" she glared accusingly.

"What d' y' mean, _chere_. Remy didn't do nothin' t' her." He winked. Rogue's glare deepened and fists curled.

"Jus' answer mah damn question, Swamp Rat."

Remy smirked and leaned back into his chair casually. "Jus' calmed her down a bit, used empathy t' make her f'get. Don't need publicity now do we, _chere? _An' couldn't help givin' her some… ot'er emotions _aussi_," he wagged his eyebrows suggestively. Rogue shook her head disapprovingly and tapped her fingers impatiently against the table.

"S' _ma chere,_ what brings y' t' town s' late?"

"Does it mattah?" she bit back.

"Course it does. X-Men don't walk alone at night just t' go in an alley. 'S not the X-Men way," he told her calmly. The waitress passed their table, handing the Cajun a simple glass of amber liquid. Rogue was handed a tall blue glass of mesmerizing liquid. The waitress walked away, winking at Remy before she left.

Rogue rolled her eyes, took the glass and brought it to her lips. "Cheers, Gambit," she told him. He raised his glass to her, and then took a sip, watching Rogue curiously. Rogue closed her eyes and tipped the glass back. She swigged about half the glass then set it down gracefully. A small, satisfied smile graced her features as she licked her lips. Remy watched as her pink tongue caressed her voluptuous lips.

"Didn't t'ink of y' as a drinker, _chere_," he stated randomly as he watched her play with the contents of her cup.

"Didn't know it mattered, Swampt Rat," she answered back. He chuckled.

"Y' never answered Remy's question. What's a _belle fille_ like y'self doin' out all 'lone? 'S not safe."

"Ah have mah night-time prostitutin' job startin' in a couple of minutes, that's why," she replied sarcastically. "Why do ya think Ah'm here?" Gambit chuckled and reached into one of his jackets' many pockets to reach for a wallet. He opened it to reveal to Rogue massive amounts of pressed bills.

"Well, _chere_, if dat's true, how much y' charge f' y' services? Remy's got enough t' pay f' y' college tuition." He grinned a devil's mischievous grin and offered his wallet to her. Rogue rolled her eyes.

"Cut the crap, Gambit. What are ya doin' here? Last time Ah saw ya, Ah left ya in the swamps for the gators food," she interrogated.

"Remy just had some… loose ends t' tie up. Gotta get some t'ings straight," he shrugged uncaringly as he drank more bourbon.

"Ya always so vague wit' ya answers, Gambit, makes a gal wonder what ya really up ta, especially when ya packin' so much money in ya wallet."

He touched his hand to his heart. "Aw, _chere_, didn't know y' cared."

"Good, cuz Ah don't," she shot back. His face set.

"But what bout y', Rogue? Very cleverly avoidin' Remy's questions, _aussi_," he queried. She took this opportunity to knock back a few more shots of her alcohol. "An' y' look ready for some… drunken fun, _non?_ What are y' runnin' from?"

"Ah don't run," she told him calmly.

"So comin' t' an alley t' cry in da night is a regular occurrence?" He received no answer. He stared at her wandering eyes from behind his sunglasses. She looked everywhere but his eyes.

She felt herself focus on the emotions going on inside her. First she felt the anxiety, the pain and anguish. Each was being focused on, slowly lessening. She darted her eyes to Gambit. "Stop tryna use ya empathy on meh, Gambit," she spoke quietly, suspiciously. Remy raised an eyebrow and smirked. Of course, she was right. He had tried to read her feelings. Being gifted with empathy helped him charm and figure out most people. Usually it had been an advantage, but when he opened his empathy to read the sullen, withdrawn girl in front of him, he felt his head, heart, and soul being sucked down by the most intense emotions of pain, emotional and some physical. He tried to focus on the most intense emotion and calm it, but instead, she appeared to feel him messing with her emotions. As soon as she quietly demanded he stop, her feelings were slammed shut, with only a small trickle of feeling feeding through the dam.

"Y' got strong shields, stronger 'n anybody else Remy knows. Makes him wonder why y' hide y' pain so well."

"Gotta keep mah sanity somehow in a house of telepaths," she replied offhandedly while playing with her straw. She could feel her drink's effects finally. Her absinthe was almost gone and she barely was borderline tipsy. A small portion of her thoughts, and the psyches thoughts, were beginning to feel muted. Thankfully, the first voices to dim were the angriest ones.

"An' there y' go avoidin' Remy's question," he stated, somewhat annoyed.

"Jeez Gambit, why you wanna know so bad? It was jus' a bad day."

"So bad it got y' wanderin' 'round? Dat don't sound like da Rogue Remy knows." Her eyes looked away.

"Things… jus' got to meh more 'n usual today. Ah just had ta get out some." He watched her fiddle with her near empty glass.

"Y' wanna go home, _chere,_ get away from it all f' a while?" he asked seriously. She sighed.

"It's… nothin' lahke that. An' besides, its not lahke Ah've got a home ta go to." Her eyes looked longing and wishful.

"Well, if y' want, Remy can take y' back down south f' a while, a lil' vacation?" Rogue snorted.

"If this is y' new and revised version of kidnapping me by askin' nicely, it ain't working. Ah'm not in the mood f' y' kidnapping games. Ah'm barely surviving here, an' Ah don't think Ah could survive bein' gator food all the time in N'Awlins. Ah couldn't leave anyhow, Ah've got too much shit ta deal with."

"An' dat would be?" he asked as she finished the rest of her drink and signaled for another one.

"Jus' same shit as always. Doesn't really mattah none anyways," she played him off.

"Ah, Rogue. Y' hurtin'. Can't help but notice y' need someone t' talk t'," he told her sincerely.

"Hey! Ah've got people ta talk ta!" she exclaimed indignantly as a different waitress set a glass in front of her. Rogue took a gulp and felt the wonderful liquid melt down her throat.

"Then how come y' hurtin' so? Don't y' tell anyone what's goin' on?"

"It doesn't _mattah_," she stressed. Her eyes were focused on the liquid in front of her. She was slowly being mesmerized by the swirl of her drink. She chuckled a bit.

"What's s' funny?" he wondered aloud.

"'s jus', Ah'm here t' forget but here Ah am, gittin all worked up ova it," she shrugged.

"Well, what d' y' suggest we do 'bout it?"

She looked around, restlessly.

"Ah dunno, but lets do _somethin'_. Ah'm gittin' bored." A small smirk curled on the man's face. He spotted the only brightly lit lamp in the bar and nodded his head towards it.

"Well, how bout we solve y' boredom? Dat pool table looks entertainin', _non?_"

She shrugged and stood up, smiling mischievously.

"Ah guess, but unda one condition, Swamp Rat," she declared.

"An' what's dat?" he stood up, copying her moves.

"Only if," she started slowly, walking around their table to meet him, " ya take off ya glasses." She reached up slowly, waiting for the flinch that happened whenever she got close to someone. She saw no flinch, surprisingly to her, and proceeded to reach up towards his face, careful to not touch his skin even with gloved hands, and slowly slid the glasses off his face.

"There…" she gazed into his eyes careful to take in their scarlet beauty. "That's bettah."

"Y' play a dangerous game, _chere._" Her eyes smirked.

"Well, who doesn't lahke a lil risk once in a while?" She ran a gloved finger lightly under his chin and saw his eyes dance playfully. She came closer, breath touching his face.

"An' by th' way," she paused for effect and moved her face closer to his ear, her warm breath whispering in his ear, causing his heart to stutter and a tingle of excitement to course down his side. "…_Je ne suis pas ta chere_," she finished sweetly in French.

Gambit stood, intrigued by the outgoingness of Rogue's attitude. Of course, having finished almost two extremely alcoholic drinks, she was a bit out there and that could explain her attitude. Gambit wondered if her attitude would eventually become "come hither" and flirtacious instead of her usual "get back" persona. He watched as her words occasionally slurred and face became peaceful and relaxed and debated on cutting her off. Before he could decide anything, she picked up her glass and slammed the rest down.

"C'mon Cajun," she beckoned, "lemme show ya how ta really play pool." She turned around her body, her head lingering to give him a welcoming glance. She walked towards the dimly lit pool table, hips swaying tauntingly. Rogue could feel Gambit's eyes slowly sashaying down her form from behind. She reached the pool table and leaned on it to reach the triangle, showing off her curves. She smirked, she knew the dangerous game she was taunting the Cajun with.

Gambit's eyes roamed across Rogue's lithe form, over her perfect curves and lean legs. He smirked as she gave him an innocent smile.

"Git ova here Gambit, Ah'm gonna wipe tha floor wit' ya." He walked over, grabbing the outstretched stick from her hands, making sure to glide his over hers. He looked in her eyes.

"As y' wish, _ma chere._"

It was to be an interesting night.

* * *

"An' Ah jus' lahke, jesus fuckin' chrast! Ah can't git any privacy anywhere! Ah can't go to mah room, 'cus then ev'body's gonna be lahke "OH MAH GAWD, ROGUE! What's wrong?" Ah can't go outside wit'out people comin' out and fetchin' meh! An' as stupid as it is, Ah can't even go to th' fuckin' library cuz it's apparently th' new make-out spot foh x-geeks! This is so gawddamn annoyin'!" Rogue stamped her foot in frustration. Two glasses of absinthe and a glass of bourbon later, she had eventually given in to Remy's plea of knowing how her day went. He listened patiently throughout the tale, giving comfort and asking questions when needed.

He leaned back to watch the girl as she leaned on her pool stick. "Well, _chere_, sounds like y' got y'self a bit of a dilemma."

She blew back a bit of hair in annoyance. "Tell meh 'bout it. Since the whole 'Pocalypse thang, Ah haven't gotten any space. It's lahke now they 'spect meh to be all… _social _or somethin' since ah 'Saved the World!'" she quoted animatedly, "When in reality, Ah didn't do jack _shit._"

"Ah, but y' did."

"An' how would ya know? You weren't there?" she reminded him.

"Remy's got connections, _petite_. Jus' s' happens Remy's very acquainted wit' one of y' fighters."

"Yeah, yeah, now which one of ya Acolyte buddies wassit?"

"Actually, this person's closer than y' t'ink."

"Ah'm sooo sure," she slurred.

"Well, she told Remy dat it took some kind of guts t' face Apocalypse after all dat _merde_ he put y' through."

"Guts mah fuckin' ass. Ya realize that it wasn't meh who killed him. It was a lil boy who's powers Ah borrowed. An' how did Ah repay him? By leavin' him comatose foh a week! Ah'm no savior Gambit," she banged her hand on the pool table and looked away, a tear pricking her eye. "Ah'm a fuckin' curse. Ah dunno why ever'one's telling meh othawise."

"Rogue… y' doubt y'self s' much. Remy wonders how much alcohol it would take t' get y' t' think otherwise of y'self." Rogue smirked, eying Remy's glass.

"Not the amount Ah have, that's foh sure," she replied. With that, she stole Remy's glass from the border of the table and knocked back half of it.

"Hey! Dat was Remy's!" he exclaimed, taking possession of his glass.

"So? Ya weren't drinkin' it Cajun! Why waste perfectly good alcohol?" she slurred slightly, laughed, and then smiled innocently. Remy mentally groaned. Her smile was too much. It wasn't until then, when he realized how much she had been smiling, that he knew how drunk she was. And now- to put the theory to the test. He casually walked to the other side of the pool table with his glass.

"Hey _chere_, walk over here f' a second," he coaxed. Rogue was at the other end of the table while Remy leaned against a wall. Rogue shot Remy a questioning look, yet said nothing. He held out his glass of bourbon, as a bribe, and wiggled it around its amber contents to further compel her. She swayed as she started out, holding the pool table as support. When she ran out of table, she slowed and felt the world gave a shocking twist and flew higher without her. She feebly could feel a vague reminder of the floor beneath her, and expected to hit something soon.

Her face never met ground as she felt a rush of warmth around her torso. She was lifted up by brown arms and hoisted up against the table. She laughed drunkenly. That had been a weird trip. As soon as she saw her savior, she closed her eyes and threw her head back to calm the laugh erupting at her throat. Remy watched her closely as she barred her neck to him. Usually, when a female gave the skin to her neck fully exposed to him, he gave them what they wanted. He watched as the pure, unmarred skin teased him. He moved closer slightly and pressed her closer. Something drew his mouth closer to her skin.

Yet the contact never happened as Rogue spotted Remy's bourbon again. There, her prize. She made a feeble attempt to reach it, grabbed it and started to chug the rest back. She only felt half of its contents as a force held it back. She opened her eyes to find Remy gently taking back the glass from her painted lips.

"Gimme," she pouted, reaching for it.

"Ah, ah, ah," he reprimanded, pulling her hand back and capturing her gaze. In a second, he had poured the last remaining shot and some down his throat, much to her gaping- mouth surprise. He leaned into her to place the glass behind her. She looked disbelieving.

"Sorry, _petite_, _mais_ Remy t'inks he gotta cut y' off now. Y' pretty drunk."

"Oh hush, Ah am nawt!" she exclaimed, accent thickening. "Ah'm perfectly fahne, Cajun."

"Y' drank _deux_ glasses of absinthe, glass of bourbon, and most of Remy's. No person would be sober after dat."

"'Cept Wolvie," she replied nonchalantly. After a second of processing the thought, she gasped and lazily smacked a hand over her mouth. "Oh shit," she laughed.

"_Chere?_"

"Aw man, what tahme izzit?" she slurred.

"'S 'bout, almost _trois,"_ he replied. She laughed again.

"Ah'm soo fuckin' screwed," she concluded, still finding her situation still humorous.

"Why so?"

"Cuz, well Remy, Ah thank Ah'm kinda tipsy an' curfew at th' institute izzat 11 on weekends. Ah thank Ah'm kinda late foh curfew."

"Well, Remy t'inks y' kinda drunk, _mais_ y' wanna go home?" She made a face.

"Well, since Ah'm gonna git in trouble anywho, Ah maight as well enjoy mah naight."

"An' are y' enjoyin' y' night?"

She laughed again, as if the answer was obvious. "Letss jus' say it didn't turn out s' bad afta all. Ah mean, Ah got ta drink, didn't Ah?" she asked teasingly.

"An' what bout Remy's charmin' company?" he fished incredulously.

"Ah dunno, ah didn't see none a' that tonaight," she commented coyly.

He held his hand to his heart and feigned hurt. "Y' wound Remy so, _chere_."

"Good," she said, accomplished. Her thoughts felt dull and muted, drowned out by a fog encasing her mind. She closed her eyes dreamily and let a smile creep on her lips. She felt free, like a child on a swing. The voices were blocked out- for once she strained to hear them. She could feel herself able to rest easy, but something was still holding her back. Her mind was slowly drifting away, getting sleepier by the minute.

"Woah there, _chere_, y' can't fall 'sleep here," came a voice. She opened her heavenly eyes and remembered where she was. Strong arms kept her up, one behind her back and the other holding her head up.

"Ah'm not sleepy, Ah jus' feels so nahce foh once an' Ah kinda drifted off…" she slurred, swaying slightly as she stood up away from the Cajun's grip. She pressed away from him, hips dancing a little with an animated hand gesturing to a small hum at her throat. Remy watched her step away curiously and moved to stay close behind. She was dangerously swaying with closed eyes and didn't even notice where she was headed. Her body started dancing towards their table, tripping and stumbling along the way. After a particularly large trip, he rested a hand on her hip and used the other to take her hand and guided her to the table. To his surprise, she allowed herself to be touched and slightly leaned back into him. She closed her eyes and let a carefree smile appear on her lips. Remy spun her around, trying to get her to loosen up, which was working well. Her smile grew wider as she opened her eyes, to be greeted by the Cajuns scarlet orbs.

"Ah've always lahked to dance," she commented lackadaisically.

"An' y' still pretty good when y' drunk," he commented.

"Liar," she accused playfully. "Ah've nevah been reallah good, ah just kinda lahke it. Haven't done it in a while though," she reminisced.

"Why not? Y' should," he told her, twirling her again slowly and moving with her. A frown placed itself over the smile and her eyes were coasted with a shield of sorrow.

"Bad thangs happen when Ah dance," she quietly replied as she stopped dancing. Her face dropped quickly just as he felt a spike in her emotions as well. She no longer held up her shields, as she didn't feel the need to. The emotions had picked up quick, as she had a trembling thought of what harm she might cause. Noticing her face and thoughtless eyes, he pressed her close. When Rogue gazed up questioningly, if anything she saw a flitter of sadness fly across his eyes, some sympathy, and she knew.

"Stop usin' ya empathy. Nothin' good comes from it."

"Can't help it, _chere_. Y' feelin' it again. Its not good t' keep it all inside." He brought a hand up to stroke her cheek and slid his gloved hand down the silken ivory. She saw everything happen in slow motion, and was unable to stop the hand and cool chill that slivered down her spine. She backed away slightly and shook her head disapprovingly.

"Ya play a dangerous game, Gambit."

"Well, who doesn't like a lil risk once in a while?" he repeated. She sighed and looked away.

"Ya flattery doesn't amount ta nothin', Cajun." She smirked sadly and began to stagger away. Even in her drunken stupor, she could faintly feel priority pushing through the fog- the priority of being home. She continued her humming escapade as she stumbled towards the entrance of the bar.

"Well, Cajun, 's been fun, but mah x-men friends are tellin' meh Ah gotta git home now, " she lured, tapping her temple with her fore finger. "_Au revoir_, Gambit," she saluted him drunkenly. Gambit watched curiously as he raised his eyebrow, silently amused at her obvious inability to walk straight. He sighed, chuckling softly as he pulled out ample money to cover their drinking costs. He grabbed his coat off the chair, taking his time in making himself look presentable.

Rogue continued on her journey while half-dancing and half-stumbling out of the door way and onto the sidewalk. She had almost forgotten about the Cajun she had left behind. In the back of her mind, she wished he wouldn't follow; in this part of her drunken glory, there was no telling what she would say. When she had been struck with the cold frigidness of the New York winter and had finally realized she was outside, she figured she was alone and Gambit was back at the bar, drinking and picking up girls.

"Pro'ly wit' some that blonde slut," she slurred to herself.

"Now, chere, do y' really t'ink Remy would do dat?" She jerked around, hand clamped against her hard and world spinning.

"Jesus fuckin' Jesus," she gasped, "Ya don't DO that ta a drunk gal, Gambit!"

"_Je suis desole,"_ he crooned, standing in front of her suddenly and grabbing her gloved hand semi-apologetically. He raised her hand up and kissed it softly. She laughed in return then yanked her hand back.

"Charmer," she retorted, taking her arms and wrapping them around her small frame. Gambit put his arm neatly around her shoulders businesslike and slowly turned her around and pressed forward.

"Why _chere_, so y' do find dis charmin'?" His face broke out in a victorious grin as she groaned.

"Ya know what Ah mean, Swampy," she swatted him, and then took a bleary look around. In her mind they had been walking for ages, and should have been nearing the forest towards the institute. Instead, she was met with stores; they were still in Bayville's city limits.

"Where are ya takin' meh? Tha Institute's ova there," she pointed lazily at a random direction.

"Y' didn't t'ink Remy was gonna let y' walk in y' condition? What kind of gentleman would he be?" he asked her incredulously.

"Ah dunno, but ya ain't takin' meh back ta ya place. Drunk o no drunk, the Prof's raight here," she slurred, pointing lazily at her temple again. "An' Ah'm kinda tha untouchable curse, just in case ya forgot."

"Remy never said he was takin' y' back t' his place. An' y' not t' untouchable curse. An' Remy be takin' y' home." He turned his head to an alley, and stopped suddenly a few blocks from the bar.

"What tha-," she stopped suddenly, pressing sides with Remy and tripping. She looked up wearily and gapped.

"'s beautiful…" she breathed heavily. Light gleamed off the slick black motorcycle. Remy let her go and walked towards his motorcycle. He grabbed a helmet from the handle bars and took another black on out from the side.

"Here," he held it out towards her.

"Ah dun need it," she weakly swatted it away. He rolled his eyes and went over to plunked it on her head, despite the protests.

"Y' drunk," he started, clipping the belt, "an' y'd be wearin' it either way."

"Damn Cajun," she muttered. "Well at least let meh drive!" she exclaimed. Remy looked at her for a full minute, as if he couldn't comprehend the request, and then climbed on the bike.

"Y' ever heard not t' drink an' drive, _chere?_" he asked sarcastically.

" But ya drank to!"

"_Oui, mais_ not enough t' get drunk, thanks t' you. Now get on."

"Gah," she spat as Gambit dragged her by the hand and pulled her on. She climbed behind him, graspinghim around the waist tightly, as she quickly noted he had body heat and she was cold. Her body gave an involuntary shiver as he started the bike. He felt multiple jerks behind him, and then quickly looked down to see arms full of goose bumps. He shrugged off his trench coat and passed it back to her.

"What?"

"Y' cold, take it," he replied quickly, revving the bike and shutting down his helmet's eye mask. Quickly complying, she struggled into the coat and wrapped it around her. In the warmth, she felt herself getting sleepy and laid her head down on Remy's back. She felt Remy move and felt herself being lifted up. She opened her eyes and saw Remy's scarlet, glowing eyes.

"Don't fall 'sleep yet, _chere_, still gotta git y'self in the door."

"Mmm," she mumbled. Remy shut her eye piece and tightened her arms around him. She struggled to stay awake and keep her hands tightened around Remy's torso. He revved the engine again and slowly backed out of the alley. Once on the street he yelled back at her to hold on. Once he felt her tighten, he whisked her off the main street and into the dark, forbidding outer limits of Bayville.

Once she opened her eyes again, she was met with the acute darkness of the night surrounding her. She had never felt so aware of the shadows around her, of the open air behind her until now. The world whipped past as she rode the wind. She felt like she was flying and falling at the same time- almost like being high. She smiled freely, her thoughts being calmed and quieted. The world was quiet. She felt hands on hers, gripping them together. She forgot she was on a motorcycle, and was supposed to stay tightened to Remy's body. She tightened and looked at the man in front of her.

His shaggy auburn hair was peaking out from the helmet and dancing wildly to the wind. His long lean neck led down to his toned torso, with strong, muscular arms handling the motorcycle and keeping Rogue's hand clamped together. She could numbly feel through her gloves the defined stomach he had. She leaned back slightly and took hold of his full body. The black muscle shirt that clung to his body left very little and very much to the imagination. His Levi's were held up by a simple two-row studded belt. They ended boot cut to his steel-toed boots. His gloves covered most of his hand, save his forefinger and his pinkie. She couldn't help but admit to her drunken self that she thought he was hot.

"Enjoyin' da view, _chere_?" This comment struck her as funny. She threw her head back in a laugh, swaying slightly. Remy tightened his grip on her hands as she brought herself back to reality.

"Pop ya ego, Cajun," she retorted. He chuckled to himself and shook his head. Minutes passed, to Rogue it was hours, before Remy slowed down considerably.

"Aw, c'mon Cajun! Fasta!" She whined. He looked around, looking for the wrought-iron gates of her Institute. "Don't need t' be wakin' up more people than we need t'," he explained.

"Oh," she replied simply, realized she could see the haunting presence of the white Institute. "Damn." She spoke in a whisper. He stopped the motorcycle quietly in front of the gates, staring at the openly restricted place.

"What tahme izzit?" she slurred slightly, sounding as if she just woke up.

"_C'est quatre,"_ he replied instinctively.

"Aw, fuck," she hit her head on Remy's back. After a moment, she sighed and raised herself reluctantly. She carefully stood away from the bike as Remy turned to watch her. She unhooked her helmet and shook her hair out of it, stumbling slightly. She handed it to Remy and proceeded to shrug off his trench coat.

"Non," he started, slinking off the motorcycle. He slid the trench coat back on her. "'s a long walk. Knowing y', y' might trip and fall 'cuz y' so drunk. Might fall asleep out there, an' we can't let y' get sick, _hein?_"

He grinned at her.

She stuck her tongue out at him. She lolled her head back and sighed heavily.

"Well then Cajun, thanks fer tha drinks, and it's been decent knowin' ya. An' if they let meh off on easy punishment, Ah'll see ya when Ah'm…dead an' rottin', _hein?"_ she mocked him.

"Or soon than y' think," he corrected. "Ah'm sure." He walked closer to her and tightened the trench coat around her waist. He looked down at her, capturing her eyes with his. She was glazed and unfocused, almost on the verge of passing out. He opened his empathy to her, hoping that something they did that night helped her. He was relieved to find calmness and ease, very sluggish due to her sleepiness. She was definitely drunk. He stroked her hair, curling it around his finger and feeling the silk. Solemn eyes met solemn eyes for minutes. Her eyes were full of regret, sadness for one instant, and then she looked away.

"G'night, Remy," she exhaled finally. He pulled her in close, pressing her against his frame. She leaned in slightly, only to step away in awareness. She turned around with his hand trailing down her back and walked towards the gate. She punched in her code and staggered away into the winding driveway.

Remy leaned back on his bike, helmets in hand and watched her tiny body sway towards the mansion's front door.

"_Bon nuit, ma chere,_" he spoke into the night. He gave a satisfied smirk. She had spoken his name. Once, but still. While she was drunk, it was progress; more than he had ever expected. He wanted to know more, about everything, but sighed as he reminded himself to be patient. He waited patiently for her retreating form to vanish. Upon her entrance, he climbed on, revved the engine and sped off.

* * *

A song had entered her mind again. The shadows were her partner and danced with her. She was free. And not to mention warm. She hugged herself as her world twirled and her vision swayed. Happy was the only way to describe it. The voices were gone, so were her thoughts. The only thing running through her mind was a song. The nameless song she had in the back of her mind always. She couldn't remember where from, but a little theme song just for her. She slid up the stairs, stumbling and falling a couple of times, when she realized she was at the Institute. The place she lived, that was responsible for her, and that would kill her if they knew.

Knew what was going on her head. What she had done. With who.

She had gotten drunk. With the enemy. And enjoyed it. She was free. No voices, no nothing. Punishment was such a small price to pay for being happy.

She opened the door, clumsily swatting the doorknob. The door creaked open with her hanging on the door for support. The world was spinning so crazily. Her eyes blinked, half-focused and drowsy. She lifted herself up orderly and swayed towards the mansion's staircase. She was dancing again, swaying to the music in her head, softly humming and moving her hands animatedly. She reached the stairs and looked up.

"When the fuck did we get so many stairs?" she wondered. They kept multiplying, doubling to her vision. She took the first step and fell. The thunk resonated through the foyer and she covered her mouth in shock.

The sound couldn't help but make her laugh. It was a small giggle at first, then titter, and then she struggled to keep it under control. She sat on the step, realized she needed to climb up. She reached up to the seventh step then stopped. The end was so far but the beginning was farther. That mantra kept on in her head. She giggled and gazed at the ceiling adoringly.

"Stripes! What the fu-" came a grisly voice.

"Shhhhhh-" she tittered loudly, "You'll wake someone up, Wolvie!" Her head lolled back on the stairs to smile at the Wolverine at the top of the stairs.

"Like, too late," came a voice behind Wolverine. Kitty emerged, rubbing her eyes and yawning. She stopped mid stretch and gapped at Rogue's smiling, giggling face. "Like, woah. What, like, wrong with you?"

Wolverine sniffed the air. "She's drunk, that's what's wrong."

"Like, no way!" Kitty breathed.

"Lahke, yes way!" she exclaimed, exaggerating the valley girl and looked at her in fake wide-eyed shock.

"Like, what happened, Rogue?" Wolverine sniffed the air again.

"Gambit happened," he snarled.

"Oh my god, what?"

"She's been hangin' out with that Acolyte," he scoffed.

"Noooo," she protested and tried to give her best innocent face but ended up laughing instead. "Now why would Ah go do that? You don't know that, Wolvie," she scolded.

"Ya have his scent and trench coat all over ya," he declared.

"Nuh-Uh!" she sing-songed and smiled. Wolverine sighed, rubbing his temple. It would be impossible to talk sensibly to her now.

"Get her to bed, Half-Pint," he told Kitty. As he turned to leave towards his room, he spoke. "We'll talk in the mornin', Rogue."

"Kay-Kay!" Rogue held a soft smile on her face as she was sprawled out on the staircase. Kitty rolled her eyes and walked to Rogue, lifting her up.

"C'mon Rogue. Time for bed." Rogue laughed. After a few falls, Kitty managed to get Rogue to her room. When she sat her on the bed, Rogue fell back with her eyes closed and a smirk on her lips. Kitty saw her face and shook her head as she took of Rogue's combat boots.

"You are so telling me everything tomorrow," she spoke to the unconscious girl before she left the room. She left Rogue was sprawled hazardously on the bed, arms wide open and legs bent. Her breathing was regulated and she slept.

* * *

**Author's Note:** OMG. Kill me, yesh? Much time has passed since I've updated. But 22 fuckin' pages. It's a gift to you, more like compensation for being so late. So much pure shit has happened. I've had writer's block for months. I've had the first half of this chapter written out on paper for the longest time. I've been counting on math class to write, cuz my other classes are douches, but i've been failing math soo... Yes, douches. I make no more promises. I can't promise, only try. And my writing ideas and time are so far between. But! Always a but. I have tentative plans for the next upcoming chapters.

Anyways! The story. Yesh, the ROMY! Marvel at its glory! I know I did over kill for the accents. So kill me again. She's drunk, naturally her accent would come through stronger. If you don't get it, just say it out loud for yourself. As for the French…. Well, the words should be fairly simple. I'm in French 2, so they should be right... But…:

_belle chere- beautiful dear, ma chere- my dear, Bonjour, mon ami- hello my friend, merci- thanks, aussi- also/too, belle fille- beautiful girl, Je ne suis pas ta chere- I am not your dear, petite- small one, merde- shit, mais- but, deux- two, trois- three, Je suis desole- I am sorry, Au revoir- goodbye, C'est quatre- It's four ( in the morning), bon nuit- good night  
_

Well before I let yall leave to read more goodness, I guess I should clear things up:

First: Bell Jar. Anybody know that song? It's by the Bangles. Realllly good chick band. I 3 them. Upbeat song, deeper meaning. Listen to it and you'll see why it fits the Rogue persona.

Second: You've probably noticed I took a line from Cajun Spice. Guess where?

Third: "Sobriety" as a title. I hadn't heard this work until a few months ago, while coming back from a school function, bleh. We were driving down the main street and all of a sudden, there was a _sobriety checkpoint. _Ooookey. A checkpoint in the middle of a road, where people could easily go on the back roads to get where they wanted to go. But still, sobriety is such a cool word. So I had to use it. Of course, for most of this chapter, Rogue isn't sober. But eh. Oh well. Its still a kick ass word.

And yea. My rant is done. I want to get this chapter OUT! Cuz I loves yall.

And since you love me, you should review… -pook pook-, -nuuuuudge-

Toodles To Your Noodles…

Midnite Angel Goth


	8. Chapter 8: Overshadow

**Summary:** It's after Apocalypse and everything is peachy for everyone on the X-Men team. Everyone that is, except the one known as Rogue. Slowly, the psyches in her mind are taking over her life and her mind, making her sink into a deep, dark depression. Will the Rogue topple over the edge, or can a certain Remy LeBeau keep her sane? It's all about ROMY, baby! I will have hints of other couples, but FYI, it's definitely a ROMY. Rated for occasional profanity, cutting, depression, suicidal-ness, and lots of dark thoughts.

**Disclaimer:** If anything sounds remotely familiar, I do not own it. I do not own X-Men: Evolution or any of its affiliates. If I did, do you think I'd still be living in a crap-pile-of-a-town? I would be off in some happy place, like New York, London… or Tokyo Disney… 'Nuff said…

On With the Show!

**Tormented Sanity**

Chapter 8: Overshadow

'The… fuck?'

That was the first thing that graced Rogue's throbbing mind when she woke up. 'What the fuckin' hell is that noise?' A low and dull, yet easily noticeable pounding noise pulsed inside her head. It felt like her heart had migrated up her esophagus and planted itself in her head, then started pumping blood furiously. Pain surrounded her temples and behind her eyes, like someone was taking her eyeballs and ramming them in and out of her eye sockets. She quietly contemplated this before foolishly attempting to open her eyes. Pain. She squeezed her eyes shut again.

"Jesus fuckin' Chrast," she whispered, painfully pushing herself into a sitting position. Even as slowly as she moved, more blood rushed furiously to her head- or what she thought was blood. It may as well been her awful headache. She moaned in discomfort, rubbing her temples in circles and attempting to get adjusted to the light by squinting her eyes. Cautiously, she saw the familiar surroundings of her room around her. Her bed was in wrinkles. The covers were neither on nor near her, instead, they were at the foot of her bead, nearly falling off, the same position they were in after the previous' morning's memory. She was smack dab in the middle of her bed, her pillows with a deep engraving of where her head slept all night. She had apparently not moved all night. There was her favorite pair of black and green boots lying neatly next to a trashcan. She didn't remember taking off her boots last night and putting them neatly next to her bed. In fact, she didn't remember much of the night before, only a few clips and pictures in her hazy memory. She knew something was missing, something important that seemed to slip her mind. She sat, head cradled in her hand, and tried to remember.

'Alright… I remember… Stupid Jean and Scott… Fuck them and their perfectness… And leaving the mansion. Why the fuck did I do that again?... And going into Bayville… I remember an alley and then…'

"Gawdamnit, that fuckin' Cajun let me git drunk!" She cussed out.

She moaned again, falling back onto her pillow, immediately regretting anything or anything she might have said or done with or to the Cajun. Ah, drunkard's remorse. She rubbed her hands over her face.

And didn't feel her hands.

"The hell…?" She blearily held her hands up to her vision. All she saw were the fingertips. The rest was a brown, faded, worn, and warm trench coat. Gambit's trench coat. What? When did this happen?

"What the hell did Ah do?" she moaned. Sluggishly she stood up and looked at the coat. It was long and big. It was wrapped fully around her. She straightened it out and it hung below her knees, almost to her ankles. The sleeves were too long; when at her side the sleeves covered her hands completely. The color was warm and earthy, obviously old and worn out. It was warm and she noticed Gambit's signature scent of light cologne and tobacco was interwoven into it. Drowsily, she attempted to shrug out of it, but noticing the lack of warmth in her room kept her from taking it off fully. She looked around. The door.

It was open.

Now, she didn't remember that open. The door to her terrace was open with curtains flying in the wind. "Ah'm losin' it," she sighed. She stumbled over, why was the room queasy? It felt like her mind was taking shuttered pictures of her life. Minor black-outs, normal people would have called it. Oh the pain in her head. She made it over to the door after millions of pictures and stumbles later, and pressed her self up against the door, closing it and leaning upon the frame weakly, letting a moan out. This was one fuck of a headache.

"Well, y' moanin' an' Remy hasn't even done anyt'ing yet, _chère,_" purred a smooth voice behind her.

She whipped her head around. She glimpsed a figure sitting on the chair at her desk before her eyes blacked out and she felt herself falling. And then not falling.

"Y' really need t' stop doin' that, _mais_ Remy thinks y' like bein' in his arms, _non?_" Her vision cleared, and she could see the Cajun face above her. And she remembered.

Remy almost expected the onslaught of pounds and hits from Rogue. Almost. He grabbed her furled hands before they could inflict any real damage on his chest. "What's dis for, Rogue?" he asked incredulously.

"You!" she hissed. "You got meh drunk!" He laughed.

"_Non_. Y' f'get Remy didn't force y' t' drink like a mad cow."

"_Non, _ya forget ya made meh git a drink wit' ya!" she mocked. Yanking her hands back, she lay back down on her bed and buried her head in her hands. "Gawd fuckin' damn," she moaned.

He mock-gasped in fake horror. "_Chère, une femme_ ain't supposed t' use dat kind of language."

She opened her eyes and glared. "What's that supposed t' mean?" she challenged. "Jus' cuz Ah'm a woman doesn't mean Ah have t' talk lahke one." He raised an eyebrow, giving her an impressed smile, and walked over to her bed, sitting next to her. She scooted over a bit.

"Remy's impressed. Didn't know y' knew French."

"_Penses-toi?" _She added. "_Seulement une personne_ _qui parle le français comprendrait le merde ce que lui dis."_ He grinned.

"_Touché, chère, touché."_

She rolled her eyes and stared at the ceiling above, with slow blinking eyes. A hand was resting on her forehead, every so often rubbing her eyes and temples. Remy looked on, somewhat interested, at the hung-over girl. He lay down next to her, propped up on an elbow, looking intently at her. She glared at him and closed her eyes. A few moments passed.

"What are ya doin' here anyways? Can Ah help ya wit' anything?"

"Mmmmmm….." he pondered mockingly for a second. "_Non_." She groaned again.

"Any reason ya still here or do ya really enjoy pissin' meh off?"

"Remy just likes spendin' time wit' _une belle femme._"

"Then get a prostitute."

"Well if y' remember last night, y' did say y' had a prostitutin' job."

She looked at him unbelievingly.

"Y' said it, not _moi._"

"Damn. You." She sighed, blowing hair into her face and squeezing her eyes shut.

Remy reached over and moved the white bangs off her face. Her eyes flew open and she spazzed. "Don't touch meh!" she hissed warningly. Now it was Remy's turn to sigh.

"What did we talk 'bout last night? Y' ain't gonna hurt Remy, and Remy ain't gonna hurt y'," he reminded her repeatedly.

"Go to hell," she spat. "If that was true, y' wouldn't have nearly blown mah hand off!" Another sigh.

"Again wit' dat. Remy didn't do anyt'ing. He barely charged enough t' do any harm t' anyone." Glare. And then she shut her eyes again and brought her hand up to massage her temple. She used her other hand to readjust her shirt, pulling it down a bit to further cover the covered skin of her stomach that had peaked through in the midst of the poking fun. She rested her hand on her stomach cautiously.

And silence.

"What d' y' remember from last night?" came a simple, soft question as he looked at the gothic girl.

She furrowed her eyebrows and thought silently for a moment.

"Ah… remember the alley. And the asshole ya are wouldn't leave meh the fuck alone until Ah went into the bar wit' ya. Then y' flirted wit' that slut bartender," she accused.

"Remy did not!" he protested.

"Oh yes ya did, ya were ooglin' over her rack and couldn't help but wink at her every so often." That shut him up. "Then…Ah remember… just drinkin' a lot. And Ah think playin' pool. And still drinkin'. Somethin' after that… Ah don't remember much after that. How much did Ah have?"

"Well…before we played pool, y' had two of y' mixed drink…"

"That wasn't that much though…" she thought, confused.

"And while playin' pool, y' stole both Remy's glasses of bourbon."

"Ah. There we go. That explains it." She smiled in reminiscence.

"Explains…?" His eyebrows rose.

"Mah massive headache."

"An' nothin' else?"

"That's all."

"Well, _chère_, Remy's very proud of y' liver. An' y' tolerance. Y' not like most girls. Most would be gone after one of y' drinks." He saluted her with his unused hand.

"Ohh, a compliment from the Cajun. Ah'm _so_ proud. In fact, give me a plaque, and Ah'll hang it on mah wall ta _always_ remember." He chuckled.

"What happened when we were playin' pool?" she inquired.

"Well, y' finally told me 'bout what happened. By that time, Remy realized y' had a lot t' drink, cuz y' couldn't walk at all. But _non,_ y' didn't listen t' him and still took his drink." This emitted a smile from her. "We played f' a while, and y' even danced f' me," he grinned cheekily, nodding nostalgically. She looked horrified. "What!" He laughed. "We danced around the bar, _chère_, _mais_what were y' thinkin'?"

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Cajun."

He chuckled. "Drunk Rogue finally realized it was 'bout three in the mornin' and decided t' call it a night cuz Drunk Rogue was fallin' asleep. Drunk Rogue decided she wanted t' try 'n drive Sober Remy's bike. Crazy Drunk Rogue." She chuckled. Even she knew that he would never let her drive his bike, especially in her drunken state. "Y' were so drunk, y' almost fell asleep on the way home. Y' finally got home around _quatre_ Dunno what happened after dat."

She chuckled again. "Funny. Neither do Ah."

"_Mais_any of it ring a pretty bell?" he questioned lazily.

"A lil, just a few hazy pictures," she frowned, scrunching her eyebrows and rubbing her temples once more. She was fidgeting with her clothing, rearranging it to cover more skin, if possible.

"Of?"

"Ah dunno. Kickin' ya ass at pool."

"Well, dat's a fantasy, not a memory. We didn't finish our game."

"Yeah, so you say," she scoffed.

"_Oui_, Remy does say," he replied confidently. "_Mais, _we can finish our game whenever y'd like. Then we'll see. What else?"

"Fallin'. A lot."

"Of course. Y' were in Remy's presence. All _femmes _get weak in d' knees round him."

"Shut up."

"An' y' tellin' y' savior t' shut up. Remy saved y' many a nasty fall."

"Prob'ly cuz Ah was tryin' ta knock mahself unconscious from bein' round ya all night."

"Y' wound Remy, _chère_"

"Not enough, apparently. Ya still alive."

He laid himself on her bed. "Admit it, y'd miss Remy."

"Nope. Wouldn't miss him foh anythang."

"Of course y' would. Y'd miss his great hair," he leaned up on his elbow and ran a hand though his hair to prove his point, "his sexy body," he caressed his chest, " an' don't f'rget his great smile," He gave her a sexy smile, that had her bursting out laughing.

"Nope." She turned her head to look at him. She looked thoughtfully at him, seeing her reflection on his glasses. "If anythang, Ah'd miss his eyes." She reached over slowly, and fingered his glasses, waiting for his flinch. He did nothing. She slid the glasses off slowly, watching his downcast eyes meet hers.

"There…" she finished softly, folding the glasses and sticking the ear piece in his black shirt. "That's bettah." She gazed upon the scarlet beauty, a small smile on her face.

He smirked wistfully. "Y' play a dangerous game, _chère,_" he recalled. She stiffened slightly as his gloved hand reached down and brushed away a strand of white hair away from her eyes. His eyes softened and looked into hers. She didn't want to look away as she felt warmer than before. A minute smile caressed his lips. She was relaxed as his gloved hand ran a finger down her jawline. She could feel her body sink into the bed

"Well who doesn't like a little risk once in a while?" she drawled out softly, a saddened look overcoming her features. She looked away finally. Only to have her attention be brought back to the Cajun with the finger still placed on her chin.

"Remy likes a little risk," he told her quietly, capturing her eyes. The sincerity in his voice, she felt her heart move back into her head with the intensity of her heartbeat.

And something told her they were getting closer. Like gravity was pulling them together, instead of pulling them apart, as it should have been. The distance between them was so far and the gap was being bridged over so quickly. Her arm that rested on her forehead felt weak and disjointed.

Remy raised her chin up slightly. She could feel his warm breath stroke her lips as her breathing skipped. He was hunched over her, balancing on one bent arm, with another finger pressing against her chin. He never took his eyes off her. She could feel the distance close, the spice of his scent prick her lips and down her nerves.

She raised her hand and touched the hair that fell before his eyes, then slid it down his auburn mane, stopping at his shoulder.

Then the world was closing on her. She felt something tug at her mind. The silence had been too good to her. The whispers came again, in harsh tones. They called out her name. Their commands. Their wispy hands clawed at her mind. She was Rogue. She took their energy. Them. This couldn't happen.

She snapped back into reality. He was so close. She wouldn't stop if he came any closer.

But she had to. And she had a plan.

"Rogue," came his husky voice.

"Remy," she mouthed. Her other hand slid up his chest, stopping at his other shoulder.

"Ah'm sorrah, Remy, Ah'm not that easy," she replied easily, tilting her head a bit. A look of confusion came over his eyes as a strong push on his shoulders sent him flying back on the floor with a thud.

Rogue sat up, pinned him down with her hands, then straddled him. She took the trench coat off delicately, making sure to put an extra voluptuous motion in there, and placed it on his chest. He looked on with interest and a raised eyebrow.

"Now Cajun. Ya have twenty seconds befo' mah guard dog, bettah known as Wolverine, comes flyin' in here, ready to kick ass. Now, Ah suggest y' take the same way y' came in, an' git ready ta run." He raised his eyebrows amusedly, until he heard the sound of running feet below him. She got off him and stood up, hands on her hips and a satisfied smirk on her lips. He shook his head, narrowing his eyes at her jokingly.

"Y' evil, _chère_, Remy'll give y' dat." He made his way to the door, putting on his trench coat on the way, and stepped out. She looked after him, seeing him climb the railing, look back and gave her a salute.

"See y' soon, _chère_," he winked, then took a rod out of his jacket. He pressed a button and it flung out into his bo-staff. He jumped off the railing as Rogue closed the door and rushed to the floor by her bed. She laid down and positioned herself just right as Wolverine flung the door open.

"Stripes! What the hell's going on in here?"

She lifted up her head, feigning weakness, squinting her eyes to see Wolverine in a battle pose, claws extended, sniffing the room. "Wolvie… do ya have to be so loud?" she moaned, burying her head back into the carpet. She heard the distinct sound of his claws being retracted. After, she heard whispers.

"What are ya lookin' at? Back to what ya were doin', or else I'm assignin' Danger Room," Wolverine's voice threatened. Rogue heard a stampede of footsteps fade down the hall.

"Stripes…" his voice began, closing the door.

"Ah just fell outa bed, that's all," Rogue mumbled. Logan sighed loudly. She rolled herself over, picked herself up feebly and flung herself delicately on the bed.

"Stripes… what were ya thinkin'?" he asked. Rogue could almost see his hand make its way to his head and run through his hair.

"Wha?" she asked, faking confusion.

"Last night." She groaned. Then sat up and rubbed her head. She didn't remembered the part about coming into the Mansion. Therefore, she didn't expect him to know. How would she explain this?

"Ah dunno… Ah… just needed a drink. Ah had a bad day."

"Ya know that's not gonna solve havin' a bad day." Rogue chuckled.

"Ya should know." He sighed again.

"With the Acolyte?" he questioned disbelieving.

"Ah- He was there when Ah went," she lied. Well, not a complete lie. He was there when she went to the alley.

A third sigh.

"Look, Stripes. I'm not gonna tell you who to hang out with but the Cajun? After what he did…"

"Ah know, Logan. It doesn't mean anythang, really. His company was nice last night." She didn't apologize- what for? She finally met his eyes, sorrowfully hung-over and pale. He was uncomfortable.

"Jeez, I'm not good at this," his voice grumbled, slightly amplified. She winced; it was loud to her and reverberated in her mind.

"Didn't expect ya ta be good at this," she replied. Logan gave her a curious look.

"I didn't say anything, Stripes," he responded. Embarrassment flushed her cheeks. "Sorrah, Ah- Mah head hurts some." He looked at her harder. The room became still as she fidgeted.

"So… what's mah punishment?" she winced, expecting something big. Another hand through the hair.

"Yer grounded fer a week, kid, with Danger Room every morning, five o'clock sharp, starting tomorrow."

She sighed. It was mercy, that's what it was. Merciful pity. "Got it."

Logan turned and started to leave, then stopped. "Don't let this happen again anytime soon, okay?" He opened the room door and stepped out, leaving a soft click behind him.

She groaned and flopped back on her bed faced down when she knew he was out of earshot. This next week was going to be a bitch. He was going to work her ass and then some. If only there was a way Professor Xavier didn't know. But then again, who could hide anything from the world's greatest telepath? He probably already knew. That meant he'd either insist on private meetings where they could discuss her actions, or could not say anything and make her carry a guilty conscious. Like she didn't have enough of that already.

Either way, she figured she was screwed.

And to add to the screwed-ness, there was a knock at the door.

"Rogue?" came a muted valley girl voice.

And now it was time to fake sleep.

And within a few seconds, she heard the creak of soft feet walking on her carpet. And all went silent.

"Yea, whatever Rogue. You are so not asleep. Especially not after Mr. Logan came in. Get up and talk, like, now."

Rogue groaned and flipped over like a dead fish. Kitty's arms were crossed over her chest and her face was unbelieving.

"Gah. Whaddaya want, Kit?"

She took that as the okay to talk. And perched on her bed. With wide-eyes and a grin.

"Okay. Go." She prodded.

Nothing.

"What?"

"Like, jeez Rogue! You have to tell me what happened last night! It's, like, the best friend rule!"

"Whaddaya mean, what happened last night?" she suspiciously asked.

"Like, what were the events leading up to you stumbling into the Mansion drunk and, like, making Mr. Logan totally trip out? Duh!" she exclaimed, rolling her eyes.

"Whaddaya mean Logan trippin' out!" she exclaimed, horrified.

"Like, ohmygosh! You don't remember!" Kitty gasped in wide-eyed amazement. Rogue returned the wide-eyed face.

"Remember WHAT?" her voice escalated.

"Like, you totally came in the Mansion at four in the morning, all drunk and loud. Like, when Mr. Logan and I found you, you were totally all over the stairs and laughing hysterically and you could hardly make it up to your room!"

"Oh. Fuck." She moaned and buried her head in the pillow.

"Like, what did you think happened?"

"Ah thought Ah just came in and Logan just managed to smell the alcohol on me!" she took her head away long enough to express herself.

"Well. No." Rogue groaned again.

"And I think, like, the whole Mansion knows," Kitty meekly told her.

"Well fuck them." Rogue's head was back in the pillow. "They're just jealous Ah got plastered. How'd they find out?"

"Well… someone probably heard you going to your room with me. You aren't a very quiet drunk, like, y'know?"

"Okay, well, enough about that! What did you do?" Kitty was bouncing, her hair bouncing higher.

"Ah went out."

Kitty rolled her eyes. "Duh. Where?"

"Outside the Mansion."

Kitty exhaled loudly. "Okay, like, I'll make this simple. The whole Mansion knows you got drunk. Only Mr. Logan, you and I know who you got drunk with last night. Unless you _want_ me to tell the whole mansion you were fraternizing with that Acolyte…"

Rogue raised her head and narrowed her eyes glaringly. Kitty smiled back. "Blackmail…Ya are spendin' way too much time with meh."

"I know. Isn't it, like, great? Now start," she commanded.

"With?" If she was going to be forced to relay her story, oh, she was going to make it painful.

"With when you left the Mansion."

"Ah… left the Mansion and walked into Bayville. Remy found meh. Then we went into a bar. Ah got drunk. The end."

"_Remy_? First name basis?"

"Gah!" she shooed her.

"Like, did he pay for the drinks? What did you talk about? Was he all charming all night? Were you flirting? How'd you get home?"

Rogue groaned. "Ah don't remember if he paid, Ah don't remember what we talked about, Ah don't remember if he was charmin', an' even if he did flirt, Ah wouldn't remember. Ah think we got home on his bike. Ah. Don't. Remember."

Kitty's eyes clouded over with a dreamy look. Rogue felt was going on in her head. She rolled her eyes. She could feel what her response would be, like one could feel an itch to a bug bite coming on.

"Oh, like, how romantic! On his bike? Did he feel good?"

"What the hell kind of question is that!"

"Well, you had to be holding on to him!"

"Kit. _Ah was drunk_. He told me Ah was fallin' asleep on the way home, _Ah don't remember._"

"He _told_ you? When?" Rogue's heart palpated.

"Sometime befoah Ah got into the Mansion," she lied quickly.

"Did he walk you to the door?"

"Ah. Don't. Remember," she stressed.

"Okay, well, what did you talk about?"

"Jeez, Kit. Ah dunno. Somethin' about prostitutes, life, an' pool."

"Like, did he seem interested?"

She paused. Did he?

"Well… he didn't tell meh ta shut up, so Ah dunno. Ah guess."

Kitty squealed and her limbs went flying. And her leg knocked over a trash can and one of Rogue's boots. She looked questioningly at Rogue, and picked it up.

"You, like, feeling sick?"

"No… just a massive headache. Why? Thought Ah was gonna be sick?"

"I… don't know. It wasn't there last night when I took off your boots."

Rogue froze as realization dawned on her. He was watching her. He was there before she found him. He was watching her sleep. That fucker.

"Ah dunno. Prob'ly Logan gave it ta meh and Ah didn't notice. Oh well," she tried to play it off with a shrug.

"But why would he? You do have a bathroom, like, right there."

"Well, Logan's crazy."

"And how could you _not_ notice?"

"Cuz Ah'm hung-over? What does it mattah? It's just a trash can." She averted her gaze. The room was getting hotter, or was it just her?

"Rogue. I doubt that was Logan," Kitty speculated.

"_Jeez _Kit! Just drop it already. It doesn't mattah," she rolled her eyes. Kitty huffed.

"So tense, Rogue. Lighten up. It's not like someone came in here and put it there right?"

"Right, jeez." And there it was. Something clicked and Kitty narrowed her eyes. Something was missing. Something brown, worn, and long. Something trench coat like.

"And it's not like someone came in here to take their trench coat, right?" Kitty tilted her head and mockingly smiled. "Speaking of which, Rogue, where is Gambit's trench coat?"

"What trench coat?" Rogue was internally pleading that Kitty failed to see the trench coat last night.

"You know, the trench coat that you had on last night. The one that's Gambit's. The one that Mr. Logan totally figured out his scent. That trench coat."

"Ah threw it out the window," Rogue flatly responded.

"But you woke up when Mr. Logan came in, right?"

"Right."

"And I came in after Mr. Logan left. And when I came in, you were in bed. Rogue…"

"Ah threw it before you came."

"I was listening before I knocked. You didn't move at all from the time Mr. Logan left until the time I came in. And the trench coat's gone. Which could only mean you weren't really sleeping when Mr. Logan came in. Which means…" Kitty wore a devilish, satisfied smirk. Her smirk grew into a smile as Rogue's became more deadpanned and narrowed.

"Oh my god," Kitty breathed.

"Kit…" Rogue began warningly. Kitty's smile grew into a grin, which led to wide-eyes. A giggle began.

"He did!"

"Kit-"

"He came-"

Rogue leaped forward and tackled Kitty's mouth with her gloved hand. Kitty squealed louder.

"Shut up, Kit! Do ya want the whole damn Mansion ta hear ya?"

"Yes! He came to see you!"

"No. He came ta get his trench coat."

"No! He came and put a trash can by your bed. That totally means he cares."

"No, it totally doesn't mattah," she stressed again.

"Yes it does! Now tell me. Everything. Now." Kitty's eyes grilled her. Rogue groaned again.

"Ah woke up. He was there. Ah gave him his trench coat. He left."

"You are so difficult."

"That totally means Ah care," Rogue mocked. Kitty threw up her hands.

"Well, at least tell me what that hecka loud sound was?" she pouted.

"It was the sound of Gambit's fat ass being pushed by me so he would finally leave."

"How cute!" Kitty crooned.

"Not cute! Annoying!"

"You so enjoyed the attention."

"No. Ah. Didn't. Ya can have the attention for all Ah care."

"Oh c'mon Rogue. It isn't that bad. He does seem to genuinely care for you," she pointed out.

"Just cares about the challenge," she scoffed back.

"Don't be so pessimistic. He did go find you with Wolverine and Sabertooth in Tibet."

"That's different. He had to. The other two would've killed each other."

"They would've, sans healing factors. Admit it. He cares." Rogue flopped on her stomach and buried her face in the pillow and groaned loudly.

"Drop it. He does not."

"Yea, like whatever. Just think about it. Think about how much he cares. And you. Because, if I remember correctly, you didn't come home right after you met him. You stayed. That totally says something." Rogue felt a shift in the bed and bounced back into place.

"Feel better with that hang-over!" Kitty's voice faded away. She had phased out of the room, a moment too late as she didn't see the one-fingered salute of love Rogue was sending her way.

And Rogue moaned. Almost screamed. And pulled her hair. Kitty was going to pester her for days on end about this. And it wasn't like it meant anything. She saw how he flirted with the bartender. How he flirted with everyone. Including her? Could you count his innuendoes and her death glares as flirting? Kitty's last comment stuck in her head. Why didn't she leave? One drain and she could've been gone. It would have saved a whole two hours worth of situation in the morning.

'Gawddamn! Just get the thought out of my head! It didn't mean anything!'

/How could it mean anything/

/The untouchable hardly means anything in herself./

'Shut up! Go back to being drunk!'

/Why would it mean anything? He hardly could care about you…/

/He's a guy with one thing in mind…/

/You're just a challenge…/

'Just fucking shut up…' she pleaded and veered a bleary eye over towards her nightstand. The voices had started and she had almost forgotten about them while talking to Kitty.

It was there. The aspirin. She hoisted herself up and opened her nightstand. She took the bottle out and opened it. There were a couple of pills left. Already? She had just opened the bottle last week. She downed two pills straight and threw the bottle back into the nightstand. The bottle hit something and made a metallic sound. No…

A sharp razor sound.

She forgot what she kept in her night stand, for emergencies only, of course.

Gradually yet suddenly, the headache, more importantly the voices, faded.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Well hi there. I'm alive. Somewhat. And it's Saturday. I've finished my junior year. And the ACTs today. I'm pretty much all burnt out with anything mental. So I spent all day cleaning my room. And I have a desk again, so now I'm more inspired to write. Except I don't have internet access on meh lappy top. –Sad sigh- And I'm telling you this why? I dunno. Something about it being pretty damn late at night does things to you.

So this is the latest chapter. I didn't like how it turned out. I might re-do it, I probably won't. I think my style changed in the middle of the chapter. It sounds weird to me…But how bout that Romy, ehy? A lil some-some for my Romy fans. About this chapter:

The French translations: _Penses-toi?-_ You think ?

_Seulement une personne_ _qui parle le français comprendrait le merde ce que lui dis.- _Only a person who speaks French would understand the shit that you say to them.

I translated those meself, so if they're wrong, well… yell at my French teacher, she sucks. For al those little words, go to chapter… uh…6/7? I think, is where the lil word translations. Methinks there's too many lil words for me to go and search for so… I'm lazy. And I've decided Rogue is fluent in French. Because French is cool. So there. Says the Mexican who can't speak teh spanglish. Werd.

Um… much Romy. Heh, don't maim me because they didn't kiss. There will be some later so dunna worry. For all of those who didn't get the ambiguity, Remy was in the room while she was sleeping, and put the trash can there, just in case. Kitty was like, wtf? And decided to interrogate Rogue. I'm making Kitty a smart valley girl, so she figures it out.

If you haven't used the thesaurus on Word, you probably wouldn't get the chapter title. Overshadow is a synonym for hangover. Which is what the chapter was mainly about. Rogue's hangover. But it's also, how her psyches are somewhat over shadowing her ability to think straight, etc, all that psychological crap. In other words, I felt that Hangover as a chapter title would have been too broad. So Overshadow it is.

And did anyone notice the slight power-freak our little Roguey had? Two? In one chappy? Hmm? I think this is the 4th/5th one I've put in the story? I've lost count. We had one today with Jean's power, and who can get over a horribly bad hangover like that so quickly and only need to take two aspirins? Wolverine- that's who! Slight, slight, slight power freak-out, though. And did she cut at the end, or not? Hmm… let's wait for next chapter, shall we? Speaking of which. This was the last chapter I had pre-written ( pre-written from when I was 14/15, so it sounds like shit). In other words, the next update might be a while. I ish sorry. But I do know what I _want_ to do…

Anywho. What else, what else? I dunno. I'll think of more tomorrow. Or something. Whenever I get this thing out.

OH! So, speaking of prostitutes, I'm doing this new lil one-shot about Rogue. And prostitution. Hmm? Wanna check it out maybe? I've been trying to finish it since Febuary, so…whenever I get it up... Hopefully sometime this summer. But yea. Prostitution fun. And it's my first time at a lemon. It's more than kind of slightly graphic, so for the weak of heart, it may not be for you. But I like corrupting people, so read it anyways. I'm pretty sure I'm going to call it Painful Pleasure, so WATCH OUT BIZZATCH.

Annnnnnnd I think that's all.

Night night!

Midnite Angel Goth


	9. Chapter ?

**Tormented Sanity**

Chapter ?

She popped three pills and took a sloppy swig from her water bottle before collapsing unceremoniously against the tree trunk. She felt like she could simply just slip away any second. Her tiredness, the psyches, her general wanting to not BE there anymore was slowly taking over. It was the closest thing to being alone and relaxed she had been in a few days, and yet she couldn't let go all the way for various reasons. One, the psyches would feed her some deliciously horrid memories, and two, letting lose under a tree during the middle of lunch was hardly appropriate or safe for herself or others.

So there she sat, slumped, curled up pathetically underneath her lunchtime tree. Her earphones blasted something, didn't matter what really, to fight the voices that were competing with the music. She covered her eyes with oversized sunglasses; it was bright and cold outside and the psyches managed to give a big enough migraine to see spots and be blinded by anything with light. Overall, she hurt and… she had the peculiar feeling she was being watched.

She let loose an annoyed sigh. Really? In the middle of a school day, during the only alone break she had, pretty much ever? She took out her earphones and set them down on her lap feebly.

"Really, Cajun? Whadda ya want?" She couldn't stop her utter fatigue and annoyance from leaking out. She could feel his goddamned cocky smirk spread across his face and with a smidge more energy than she presently had, she'd smack it off his face in a jiffy. His soft chuckle filled the air.

She felt the tree rustle and a figure swing down lithely and noiselessly. She didn't need to open her eyes.

"Aw, _chere,_ Remy t'inks y' know what he wants," she heard way too close to her ear.

"A slap on the face? Or how 'bout a kick to the balls?" she lazily sneered, not caring to move her body for his inane answers.

"Must y' be so violent, _chére_?"

"What can Ah say, ya just manage to bring out the very best in meh," she retorted drly.

"Speakin' of which, why _are_ ya here?" she turned to glare at him. "Not enough skirts for ya ta chase so ya decided to bug little ol' meh ta death?"

He chuckled. "Well, since y' ain't wearin' a skirt t'day, _ma chere¸_ not much t' chase."

"So ya did come to kill me. Great." She rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses and settled back down against the tree trunk.

"_En fait_, Remy just received some good news, thought y'd like t' share in the celebration." There was a smirk in his voice.

He had peaked her curiosity. Would she let him know that?

No.

"What, ya actually decided to let me live and leave me alone for good?" she mock gasped. "Well, gee golly, that's fabulous news!"

He let out a hearty laugh.

"_Au contraire, ma chere,"_ he began, as the hideous bell of doom screeched the end of her lunchtime hour. He stopped, grinned, and stood up, offering his partially gloved hand to Rogue.

* * *

I'm baaaaaaack! Hello everyone! You must be thinking to yourself "so many years later and this is all we get?" and I'm inclined to agree with you. However, this chapter is a teaser. "A teaser? What happened to a real chapter?"

Well, I didn't like the way Tormented Sanity was heading. It had been a while since I worked on this and since then, I realized I didn't have any overall plan for this story. It was far too clichéd and angsty and just not what I wanted it to be. So, I've been working on fixing this idea. I've re-written most of the chapters, added in new stuff, AND then some. I definitely have a better idea of where I want to go with this.

And since I'm a glutton for nostalgia (and reviews), I'm going to keep Tormented Sanity up and post the new story (Tormented Sanity 2.0) "The Wreckage" so you can see how much I've changed this as well as how much I've kept the same. You'll notice some of the first chapters have the same elements as TS, but a lot has been edited out and/or changed completely.

So! If you've like what you've read thus far, I'd highly suggest reading "The Wreckage" (as well as highly suggest reviewing so I continue more.) Any sort of review makes me happy

Toodles! MidniteAngelGoth


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